


Ghosts

by JudeAraya



Series: OSU!Verse [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Therapy, anxiety attack, references to non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:56:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 54,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1901553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudeAraya/pseuds/JudeAraya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The truest of love stories. -- the one where both men need work getting past their past in order to love themselves better and love each other better.  Follows them as they learn to transition from friendship to intimacy, and the end, into deep and abiding love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Last story in the OSU verse, finally posted after cleaning up with the help of Istytehcrawk. Much thank to her, and to my original, awesome betas: wowbright, punkkitten, alianne, bashfull1881. This story does follow Through The Hidden Door, and as such there will be references to the noncon discussed in the previous story. Nothing explicit but if you are unsure, PM me. This was originally published in June of 2012 so it is way off canon.

The streets are yellow lit in the darkness, the sounds of conversation and music from passing cars tethering and isolating at the same time. Nervous, Blaine follows where Kurt leads, hands in his pockets. Eventually they come to a granite bench. Blaine watches as Kurt breathes, looking up at the sky, then back down at Blaine. Biting his lips, Blaine sits, ankles crossed and shoulders hunched, gripping the cold underside of the granite.

~*~ 

When he’d asked Kurt to go out for ice cream, Blaine had been hoping that the prop, the physicality of the ice cream, would give him something to focus on, something that would make this easier. Everything that had come before -- admitting that he loved Kurt, the kisses shared in Kurt’s room -- they were all easy compared to actually deciding what this _thing_ between them was. 

He’d ordered a cone dipped in chocolate even though it was sure to drip and stain his shirt. He didn’t really care, but he could read the distress all over Kurt’s face, which was all kinds of adorable. Not wanting to make a fool of himself, Blaine tried to eat the cone carefully, mindful not to smear chocolate onto his face or fingers. Of course, Kurt had ordered something boring and low-fat, which made Blaine want to run his hands slow and sure over the planes of Kurt’s body, to tell him with words and fingers and praise how goddamn beautiful he was. 

They’d walked in silence, each paying attention to their own dessert. Kurt had snorted out a laugh when Blaine misjudged a bite, losing half his cone in the process. The awkwardness between them broken, Blaine sidestepped the mess to press a sticky kiss to Kurt’s lips. Pulling away and meeting Kurt’s half smile in the evening light, he’d felt younger and more centered than he had in years. 

Darting a look away, Kurt spoke. “We should talk, shouldn’t we?” 

~*~ 

“This is kind of hard.” Blaine admits, not looking up. Kurt hums in what might be agreement. 

“We’ve always been honest with each other, right?” Kurt’s voice is tentative, just the tiniest bit thready. Blaine closes his eyes and nods as Kurt continues, “Let’s be honest then, okay?” 

“Are we… is this- are we dating? Together?” Blaine fumbles. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he feels like a dumb teenager. Blaine sighs before covering his face. When Kurt’s arm nudges his, he leans into the touch. 

“I want to be- to be together, with you.” It helps that Kurt seems just as tentative as he feels. “I’ve never had that before. I’ve never been someone’s boyfriend.” It’s wistful, a little sad. Kurt rounds the words with a longing Blaine is sure he’s carried for years. 

“I want to be yours.” Blaine speaks into the comforting press of darkness and haloed street lights, fingers opening and closing over Kurt’s fingers like a starfish. 

“Then be mine.” Kurt’s words are whispered, as if he’s frightened, and Blaine feels a little needy, but he can’t stop himself from kissing him. His hands are on Kurt’s jaw, his heart beating and breaking open between them. 

Blaine pulls away reluctantly, still wanting more. Longing fills his bones and sets his skin buzzing. They have other things to talk about; he has other things he knows he needs to say, because without them, even this is unnerving. Blaine feels a little light-headed, sometimes, thinking about Kurt and the things he makes Blaine want. Even knowing it is too soon, he still wants. 

“Is it-” Head bowed, he can feel Kurt’s breath along his scalp. His fingers weave and tangle, stroking and playing with Kurt’s. “Is it okay if we take things slow, for a while?” Blaine feels juvenile asking; after all, he is a 20-year-old man, in almost no ways a virgin, but he needs the safety net of control and timing and the right to make all of these choices for himself. He wants to enjoy each step, to take his time and linger on all the things he let himself get rushed through before. Kissing Kurt, being incrementally closer to this incredible boy, is more than enough for now. 

“I’d love that.” Kurt’s eyes are closed, fingers tight around his. “You know,” Kurt continues, still wistful, leaning away to look out over the dark street, “That’s all I ever wanted. Someone to love, someone to love me. To hold hands. I was such a silly romantic in high school. But it-“ he swallows, shaking his head again. “It was hard… really hard, high school. And, well, you know about David, and having my first kiss- I guess kind of stolen.” Kurt’s single shoulder shrug conveys acceptance and resignation. 

“I think I kind of gave up on the idea that I’d ever get that. Any of the romantic trappings I’d always dreamed about. Flowers and candlelight, a guy who would love music and musicals, who would think that the touch of a finger,” Kurt trails one in slow circles, shifting and heating the nerves under Blaine’s skin, “was as sexy as it could get.” 

Blaine watches the slow progression of Kurt’s fingertip, spiraling and orbiting over the back of his hand and up his arm. He thinks of a younger Kurt, dreams so fresh, and feels something contract in his chest. 

“Kurt, if you’ll let me, I’ll work so hard to give you all the romance you deserve, which is so, so much. I’ll work to be everything you could ever want, romance and love and flowers. Anything.” 

“Blaine.” Kurt’s hand in his is solid, the pads of his fingers digging in just a little. “I don’t want you to be anything other than who you are. Because you _are_ what I want.” 

“Okay.” Blaine’s smile is tremulous; air is rushing out of his lungs. “I might need you to remind me sometimes. Until I learn, you know.” A darted glance up finds Kurt still looking at him, steady and sure. 

“I can do that.” 

They walk hand in hand back to the dorm. Shivering slightly, Blaine moves closer to Kurt, who smiles and wraps his arm around Blaine’s waist. “You should be dressed more warmly,” he advises, running a hand over Blaine’s goose-pimpled arm. Kurt’s hand is warm, so much warmer than his own skin. 

Blaine stops, turning until his face is buried in the crook of Kurt’s neck, and inhales. “You smell really good, did you know that?” Kurt stands still, his other arm coming up to circle Blaine. Blaine closes his eyes against the glare of a streetlight, swaying slightly as they stand, breathing each other in. He can feel the vibrations through Kurt’s throat when he clears it. 

“Th-thanks.” 

Inhaling again, Blaine feels the nerves in his stomach settle a bit. 

“Do… do we have to say goodnight now?” He’s grasping at Kurt’s belt loops, unwilling to separate just yet. Despite their earlier words, he isn’t sure of his footing. If he invites Kurt in, will he be expecting something more? More than he’s ready for? 

“I don’t want to,” Kurt answers frankly. Blaine feels his cheeks flush, words stuttering as he works to overcome his embarrassment. 

“If I asked you t-to come in… I mean… is it ok if, if we just- I mean-“ 

“Blaine.” Pulling away, Kurt looks him in the eyes. His face is serious, the lines of his bone structure backlit and stark. “We just talked about this, right? I want to be with you tonight… I’d like to hold you, now that I can. I’d like to kiss you some more, because I’ve been thinking about kissing you for months. But I was listening when you asked to take it slow. I want to go slow, too.” 

Blaine relief coursing through him as he exhales. The night air feels so much cooler against his overheated face. His laugh is rueful, small against the sounds of the cars and music filtering from the dorm. “I think I’m a slow learner.” His lips quirk in response to Kurt’s small smile, hands coming up to frame Kurt’s face. Kurt’s skin under his thumb is as soft as he’d dreamed it would be. The sight of Kurt’s eyes, shadowlit and fluttering closed as he nudges into the touch, sets up butterflies in Blaine’s stomach. “Think you have the patience for me?” 

“All the patience in the world.” Kurt’s forehead is tipped against his, breath uneven. Blaine tilts his head, stretching up to whisper his lips against Kurt’s, “I’d wait forever for you.” They kiss, lips tender, just a bit, Blaine’s heart pounding hard against his ribs. Warmth settles in his chest, expansive with hope and love. Pulling away, he takes Kurt’s hand. 

“It’s cold out. Want to come in and watch a movie or something?” 

“I’d love that.” 

They walk together slowly down to Blaine’s room. 

“When is your last final?” Kurt asks. Blaine smiles down at their hands; Kurt is swinging them. 

“Friday. It’s not a bad one. The worst is on Wednesday. You?” When he looks over, he finds Kurt staring at him. Kurt’s cheeks flush a little as he looks away quickly. For the second time that night, he clears his throat. 

“What?” Blaine asks, feeling self-conscious. They stop at his door, Kurt waiting to be let in and Blaine waiting for an answer. Blaine leans casually against the door, hips askance and fingers tangled with Kurt’s. He has to look up at Kurt, which sends a thrill through him. Kurt shakes his head, looking away. 

“Come on, what?” Cajoling, Blaine jiggles their joined hands then pulls Kurt a little closer so that he’s standing between Blaine’s out-spread legs. He watches as Kurt bites down on his lip. His mouth waters a little, wanting to be the one doing the biting. 

“I just-“ Kurt’s eyes are bright, stunning in intensity when he looks at Blaine. “I really love you, and I can’t believe this is real.” 

Breathless, Blaine nods. His skin feels too small, hot and then cold, and he’s hyper-aware of every inch it, of his clothes against it and Kurt’s clothes covering his slim body, which is so warm and just one tug away. He takes a deep breath, turning to open his door. The flood of yearning running through him is disconcerting and a little frightening. Unsure of himself, he lets Kurt in, standing by the closed door and jingling his keys nervously. Jeff is not in; Blaine is simultaneously grateful and scared shitless. 

Kurt is setting down his messenger bag, back to Blaine. Blaine can see him taking a deep breath as well, squaring his shoulders before he turns to smile at Blaine. 

“Movie?” Kurt’s tone is light, his eyes too dark. 

“I kind of just want to kiss you, but I’m also really freaking out,” Blaine confesses, feeling foolish. Kurt fiddles with the cuffs of his shirt. For the first time, Blaine realizes that Kurt is just as unsure as he. The door against his back feels like safety. Kurt’s skin, peeking from under his layers, looks like an oasis, and, god, he is _so_ thirsty. 

Steeling himself, Blaine walks toward Kurt, grabbing his hand and thinking fast. Lying down seems like too much. Blaine’s whole body is bright with desire, his breathing fast and uneven. Sudden clarity tells him that going slow might be harder than either of them have bargained for. Blaine pulls Kurt down to sit next to him on the futon instead; Kurt waits for him to sit with a small frown on his face. Blaine hesitates before tucking his feet under Kurt’s thigh; he isn’t used to making the moves, but Kurt doesn’t do anything, and Blaine can feel a knot in his stomach tightening. They look at each other seriously for a minute before Kurt speaks. 

“I really want to kiss you too, Blaine.” Kurt’s hand is unsteady as it runs up his arm. Blaine leans into the touch. 

“So kiss me.” His eyes close as Kurt’s lips finally find his, his heart hammering and scared. He opens his mouth. His whole body feels like it’s shaking, caught at an awkward angle against Kurt. Kurt’s hand is light on his shoulder, his kiss gentle and restrained. Blaine pulls away, daring a glance up at him. 

“Why is this so weird?” He asks. Kurt’s eyes widen and he laughs in surprise, fingers coming up to tug at Blaine’s hair. 

“I’m scared of doing the wrong thing. I’ve never really kissed someone like this.” 

“Like what?” Quizzical, Blaine waits and listens, trailing his fingertips against the triangle of Kurt’s collarbone that is exposed by his shirt. Kurt shrugs, and they avoid each other’s eyes. 

“Sober? Someone I know? A… boyfriend?” Blaine can hear the hesitance in Kurt’s voice. He sounds young, and somehow this makes Blaine feel more confident, more secure. He bends to kiss along the line his thumb has been drawing, relishing Kurt’s quick drawn breath. He thinks about what Kurt’s said, about doing the wrong thing. 

Kurt’s voice is higher when he speaks again, head tilting back to allow Blaine’s mouth more access, hand tightening reflexively in Blaine’s hair. “I need you- Blaine, wait. I can’t- I can’t talk while you do that.” Smiling against Kurt’s skin, Blaine stops to look up. It’s weird because their bodies are at wrong angles. 

Kurt exhales, fingers smoothing through Blaine’s curls. “Will you promise to tell me if I do something you don’t like, or something that makes you uncomfortable?” Blaine nods. They look at each other for a minute, and Blaine understands Kurt is asking him to set the pace, giving him the reins. Kurt is so beautiful, and Blaine thinks back to the nights he’s spent fantasizing about this moment. 

Nervous but so turned on, he moves to straddle Kurt’s lap, and Kurt startles, surprised. Blaine is careful to keep some distance between them. Taking Kurt’s face in his hands, he leans forward and captures Kurt’s open lips, biting down just as he’s been wanting to do for so long now. Kurt’s moan thrills through him, and then they are kissing in earnest. He can feel Kurt’s hands fisting in the back of his shirt. There’s nothing but the sound of their mouths and breaths in the room, hardly heard through the thundering of his heart. 

They kiss for long minutes, Blaine’s hands wandering over Kurt’s surprisingly strong shoulders, which flex under his fingers. They trace over Kurt’s chest, trembling over the heart beating fast and hard in there. When they finally break apart, it’s so that Kurt can tug him down further, kissing and biting at the curve of Blaine’s neck. Blaine is tense with desire, cock throbbing, skin positively on fire and shivering as Kurt’s mouth works over him. He hears small noises, taking long minutes to realize they are him, whimpering. 

“Holy shit.” His words come out broken as Kurt exhales and shudders under him, “Oh my god, Kurt, that feels so good.” Blaine’s hands grip Kurt’s arms hard. His body is just beginning to relax and sway into Kurt’s when he hears the sound of a key turning. Fumbling and swearing, Blaine rolls off of Kurt. Dazed, Kurt turns to look at him, a question in his eyes, just before they widen when Jeff opens the door with a bang, arms full of books. Blaine tries to laugh, casually grabbing a blanket to toss over them. Unwilling to lose contact, to stray from the heat of Kurt’s body, he snuggles next to him, head on Kurt’s shoulder. Jeff stops as he passes the futon, propping the stack of books he’s holding on the back of it as he holds up a fist to bump with Blaine’s. 

“Get it, son.” 

Snorting out a laugh, Blaine bumps his fist, blushing. Under the blanket, Kurt’s hand tightens in his. When he looks up, Kurt smiles, exhaling shakily, his blue eyes darker than usual. Jeff is settling at his desk, pulling a book out of the pile and opening his laptop. 

“Do you care if we watch a movie, or do you need to study?” Blaine asks, never taking his eyes from Kurt’s. 

“Nah,” comes the answer, “I can study while you guys watch, I don’t care.” Blaine notices the tips of Kurt’s ears are pink. He wants to run his index finger over them. 

“What movie?” 

Kurt’s eyes haven’t left his. They flicker toward Blaine’s bed for a second and he shrugs. “I don’t care.” 

Blaine chooses a movie -- something they’ve seen many times -- before settling next to Kurt on the futon. His head is on Kurt’s shoulder, their fingers twined together. He counts Kurt’s breaths, listening to them slow down and even out. His heart settles, beating slower, his body like a knotted muscle finally loosening, until he is boneless and leaning on Kurt, eyes slipping shut.


	2. Chapter 2

“How’s it going?” Kurt looks up from the magazine he’s been thumbing through.

Blaine spares a glance at him -- Kurt’s foot is jiggling triple time, and he can tell Kurt is getting bored. A small ribbon of guilt threads through him. He should probably be paying more attention to Kurt, but he’s feeling a lot of pressure to do exceptionally well on his exam tomorrow. A bit stressed, Blaine mumbles, “Fine.” 

“Wanna go shopping?” Kurt tosses the magazine he’s been reading to the floor, startling Blaine. He closes his eyes, feeling a small headache gathering at his temples. The words of his economics textbook have been blurring before his eyes for the last half hour. He knows he should probably keep studying, but Kurt looks so hopeful, he can’t bring himself to say no. 

“Shopping?” Thinking fast, Blaine looks at the clock. His final is in the morning. If they go for an hour at most, he should have enough time to study. He’ll just stay up later. 

“Yeah, Margo told me about this amazing little thrift shop. I’ve been wanting to go for a while.” Kurt is already standing, gathering his bag, and Blaine feels a tug of resentment. He’s not sure if it’s aimed at himself or at Kurt -- himself because he wants to say no but can’t bring himself to; he’s pretty sure that’s a holdover from when he was with Ryan, but it’s an ingrained habit. Really, he just wants to make Kurt happy. Kurt’s finals are as good as over -- his last is his easiest; he hasn’t even studied for it. Blaine’s had little time for Kurt the last few days and knows he should be putting the effort in to make time for him now that they’re boyfriends. Balancing his schooling with a boyfriend is something Blaine had gotten used to with Ryan. 

With a last glance at his textbook, Blaine stands, checking to be sure he has his wallet and cell phone. When Kurt holds his hand out for his expectantly, Blaine feels a genuine smile breaking through his face. Sometimes it’s so easy to make Kurt happy. 

“Are you sure you’ve studied enough?” Kurt squeezes his hand. Blaine squeezes back, ignoring the band of stress tightening around his stomach. 

“Yeah, definitely.” 

~*~ 

An hour later, Blaine is tense and worried. Kurt had worked his way through the first thrift store quickly but wanted to go to another store they’d passed along their way. Blaine’s been watching Kurt admire and discard clothes with increasing anxiety for the last 15 minutes. Kurt shows no sign of slowing down; he checks his watch and smiles innocently at Blaine. 

“Let’s go out to dinner. I’m starving.” Kurt bounces up on his toes a little. It’s adorable and disarming, and Blaine finds himself agreeing. He can get some sleep tomorrow, he knows. He’ll just stay up studying tonight and sleep later. 

“Uh, yeah, okay.” He thinks fleetingly of his parents, how disappointed they’ll be if he doesn’t get good grades. How disapproving and upset they’d been with his last semester’s grades. 

“What do you feel like?” Kurt sets his purchases on the counter, smiling at the clerk and searching through his bag for his wallet. He misses Blaine’s shrug. Kurt’s darted glance up is punctuated by a raised eyebrow. 

“I don’t know, whatever you want.” Blaine twitches, trying to settle more comfortably in his shoes. 

“Thanks,” Kurt says, taking his bag from the clerk, then giveing Blaine a level look. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” The lie is automatic, so natural he doesn’t even register it as a lie. Blaine holds the door open for Kurt and takes a deep breath. Rain is coming. Kurt watches him for a second before turning toward the street. 

“How about sushi?” Blaine tries to match Kurt’s long strides, stomach contracting. He smiles. 

“Sounds great.” 

~*~ 

He’s preoccupied through the whole meal, barely nodding when Kurt asks if he likes spicy tuna, mentally running through things that might come up on his final. He’s surprised when Kurt suddenly tosses his chopsticks on the table. 

“I give up. What’s going on?” Kurt’s eyes are sharp, his mouth set in a thin line. Blaine’s shoulders hunch defensively. 

“Nothing. What are you talking about?” Nonchalant, he tries to eat a piece of tuna. He’s forgotten that he hates tuna. 

“You’ve been acting weird ever since we left the store. You’re eating tuna. I know you hate tuna. I even asked, and you said it was okay, so I know you weren’t paying attention. What’s up?” 

_Shit_ , Blaine thinks. _Shitshitshit, now what?_

“I’m sorry… I just… there’s a lot on my mind. I didn’t mean to ruin your dinner.” 

“Blaine.” Kurt grabs his hand across the table, squeezing hard. “You haven’t ruined my dinner. This isn’t even about my dinner. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing, I swear.” Blaine wonders how angry Kurt really is. He thinks of his final and dread settles in his stomach. He probably won’t have time to study tonight, not if Kurt is angry. “I promise, I’ll make this up to you. Let’s go back and watch a movie or something.” 

Kurt doesn’t speak. Blaine watches him sigh and fold up his napkin. 

“Kurt-“ But Kurt is already up, standing at the register to pay. His face is drawn, and Blaine’s skin is crawling with worry. They don’t speak. Blaine grabs Kurt’s shopping bag and follows him meekly out of the restaurant. Silence walks beside them, heavy and lingering, all the way to the dorms. Kurt leads the way to Blaine’s room without asking. Blaine measures the set of Kurt’s shoulders, wondering what will happen once the door closes. 

He doesn’t wait for Kurt to speak, closing the door smartly and grabbing Kurt by the waist. 

“I’m sorry.” He confesses, leaning up to kiss Kurt. He follows when Kurt pulls back a bit, kissing him with more urgency, pressing until Kurt stumbles back into the door. Kurt’s hands on his shoulders are firm, and Blaine ignores them. 

“Blaine,” Kurt turns his head away, pushing at him and Blaine just presses closer, kissing Kurt’s neck, fingers fumbling at Kurt’s belt. 

“Don’t be mad,” He whispers fervently against Kurt’s skin. “I’m sorry.” 

He blinks, feeling Kurt’s hands pushing at him, hard. 

“What are you doing?” It’s the first time Kurt has ever raised his voice at Blaine. His chest contracts and he feels sick. His hands are shaking. Kurt’s palms are pressed against the door, his eyes huge. With a deep breath, Blaine steps back. Kurt’s belt is undone. 

_What am I doing?_ Blaine takes another deep breath, biting at his thumb. He watches as Kurt does up his belt, watches the way Kurt’s skin is flushed, eyes wide and upset. Turning away and bracing his hands on the futon, Blaine has a moment of sudden clarity. _I’m so out of control._

“Okay.” Kurt is behind him, voice still too loud, “Let’s try this again. _What. Is. Wrong?_ ” 

Blaine is shaking his head, hands tightening reflexively. Kurt is positively shrill when he speaks again. “Why are you lying to me?” 

“Why are you yelling at me?” Blaine is surprised by his own response. Behind him, Kurt is breathing hard. There's a long pause before he hears Kurt move. The hand that falls on his shoulder is steady and firm. 

“I’m sorry.” Kurt’s quiet apology makes him feel worse. Blaine squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. “But I know something is wrong, and I don’t understand why you keep saying you’re fine.” 

He’s still shaking his head when Kurt tugs him around the futon. Kurt sitting next to him feels comforting, like maybe he isn’t that angry. 

“I’m confused,” Blaine confesses, “Aren’t you angry with me?” 

He watches Kurt’s lips tighten with unease. “I’m not angry. I was annoyed because you weren’t being honest with me. I wanted to come back and talk to you in private about it. And I’m really confused and a little disturbed by what just happened.” He waits, taking Blaine’s hand in his. “Blaine, I need you to tell me what’s going on, and what you were doing.” Blaine shakes his head, unable to speak. He feels so stupid, now, letting a little stress about a final spiral into this situation. Kurt’s fingers on his face are cool and gentle. “Blaine, come on. I love you. You’re my best friend. Please talk to me.” 

Leaning into the touch, Blaine closes his eyes. He tips his head onto Kurt’s shoulder. It’s easier to talk when he’s not looking at Kurt. It feels simpler, less pressured. “I’m stressed about my final. I didn’t get great grades last semester, and my parents weren’t very happy with me. I didn’t want to disappoint you, though, when you asked to go shopping.” Kurt’s index finger pauses. The skin he’s been tracing tingles. 

“Blaine.” There’s censure and sadness in Kurt’s voice. Blaine turns his face further into Kurt’s neck, curling his legs up so that he’s pressed against Kurt’s side. “You should have just said no.” 

“But I didn’t want you to be mad or upset,” he whispers. 

“Why would I be upset if you have to study? Blaine, you have the right to say no if you can’t or don’t want to do something. Regardless of how I feel about it.” 

Blaine shifts. The silence stretches between them, and Blaine watches Kurt’s finger as it resumes its slow course over the back of his hand. Kurt starts to speak, then pauses. “So- so you were stressed about your final. That’s why you were quiet. You didn’t think you could tell me.” Blaine nods. 

“And then when I got annoyed, you thought I was mad?” Blaine nods again. Kurt’s hand closes over his. “And because you thought I was mad…” Blaine squeezes his eyes shut, knowing where Kurt is going. 

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says, “I just… I was panicking, and it was just instinct or something, I guess.” 

They don’t speak for long minutes. Blaine lets Kurt hold him; relief is washing through him at the contact. So long as Kurt is holding him, he can’t be that upset. Shame rises like water through his lungs. Blaine cannot believe what he’s done; he had been sure that he’d learned, or forgotten, what it was like to be with Ryan in these last months. He thinks of asking Kurt for patience, but doesn’t. Bringing past relationships into this one can’t be good, and he doesn’t want to remind Kurt of how bad things were before. He’ll just have to do better. 

“Blaine.” Kurt pulls away, turning to face him, sitting so he is cross-legged. “I know you were with Ryan for a while. _But I’m not Ryan_.” The stress he puts on the last words settle like iron in Blaine’s stomach. “We’re going to talk now, and I want you to really think about what you feel and want. I want you to forget about what you might think I want to hear or what you think I might need.” 

Taking a deep breath, Blaine turns to sit facing Kurt as well. Kurt holds out his hands, and Blaine takes them gratefully. 

“It’s hard.” Kurt leans in to catch Blaine’s words. “Because I don’t want to remind you that I was with Ryan. I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to act like I used to, with him. But-“ Kurt waits, pressing his fingers against Blaine’s encouragingly. “When I thought you were mad, I didn’t even think; it was just automatic. I hate when people are upset with me. I feel like I need to fix it.” 

“Blaine, I don’t want you running around trying to fix me.” Kurt’s distress is clear. “I don’t want you trying to anticipate when you think I might be upset or angry. If I’m upset with you, I’m perfectly capable of telling you. You won’t have to guess. And unless you’ve actually done something wrong, you don’t have to fix it. And,” he continues, cutting Blaine off before he has a chance to speak, “if you _have_ done something wrong, there are more appropriate ways to fix things. Like flowers, or apologies. I don’t want… I don’t want sex to be like that between us. Ever.” 

Blaine looks down, shrugging. Placating Ryan with sex had become habitual and normal in their relationship. He can see now how twisted that is in a different context. In this context. 

“I’m sorry.” He holds Kurt’s gaze “I don’t want sex to be like that either. Ever again.” He waits, steeling his courage before saying, “I can’t promise I won’t make mistakes like this again. I just- I wasn’t even thinking, and-“ 

“Blaine.” Kurt interrupts again, “It’s okay. So long as we can be honest with each other, as long as we can talk to each other, I think things will be alright. You were with Ryan for a long time. I can be patient. Besides, we said we were going to take it slow.” 

Blaine leans over so that his head is on Kurt’s shoulder. He breathes in Kurt’s clean smell, feeling safe. 

“Now,” Kurt drops a quick kiss on Blaine’s head before pulling away. “You have a final to study for. I’m going to leave you to your studying and go pack some more.” 

“Wait, wait.” Blaine tugs Kurt back down. He pulls Kurt close, hugging him hard. When he feels Kurt hug him back, something inside unknots. “I love you,” he whispers fiercely into Kurt’s ear. Kurt’s kiss is hard and quick. 

“I love you, too.” Kurt’s smile is saucy. He blows Blaine a kiss before pulling the door shut. 


	3. Chapter 3

It’s not that hard, at first, taking it slow. Blaine knows Kurt has his own reasons for wanting to slow things down, take a more meandering route. They have roommates to consider, school to finish, rooms to pack. In between studying for his finals, Blaine’s spent the last week of the semester tying up loose ends. He’s signed a lease with Jeff and Nick, lined up a job, and arranged to take summer semester classes as well. When he has a spare moment, Blaine’s more than content to spend time with Kurt, and, occasionally, linger over the delicate flavor that lines the insides of his lips.

Summer will be soon enough for talking and discovering more. For the first time in two years, Blaine actually looks forward to having a space of his own. When he was with Ryan, having to share his bedroom with a roommate was a sheltering protection, a welcome excuse for limiting their intimacy. Blaine’s pretty sure he won’t want any more excuses, not with Kurt. 

The semester ends on a Tuesday; Kurt’s chosen to stay in Columbus for the summer, so he spends the long weekend moving his own boxes. Kurt will be sharing a room with Kevin in a smaller apartment they’ve rented with Margo and Sarah. It’s tiny, he’s told Blaine, but cheap, which is important. 

“A part of me really wants to go home for the summer.” Kurt shuffles and packs items in his closet, all of his winter wear getting carefully sorted out. “I really miss my Dad.” 

Blaine is sitting on the floor watching Kurt. He can hear the longing and the homesickness, both of which are foreign to him. He swallows a stab of sadness and focuses on Kurt. “You’ll see him though, right? You’re going home in a few weeks, at least.” 

Kurt smiles genuinely. The happy eye roll and little hip twist are so Kurt, adorable and sexy at the same time. Blaine has to swallow hard, forcing his eyes from the way Kurt’s thighs fill out his skinny jeans up to Kurt’s face. “Yeah, I can’t wait. Still, I’m sure it will kill any lingering doubts I might have had about choosing not to stay in Lima for a second longer.” 

Blaine laughs when Kurt does, then rolls over to sit up and stretch. “Selfishly, I’m kind of glad Lima sucks so much.” Crawling, he makes his way to the closet before grabbing Kurt’s hand and letting himself be hauled up and pressed against the frame of the door. 

“Mmmm, yeah?” Kurt noses gently at the skin of his neck, sending shocks and thrills through and under his skin. Blaine runs his hands along the strong muscles of Kurt’s back -- he knows better than to actually fist them in the material of anything Kurt would be wearing. 

“Yeah.” Blaine’s voice is shamelessly breathy, “I’d miss you.” He pauses when Kurt does, pulling back to look at him, but Kurt just presses closer, lips rough on his, more demanding than they usually let themselves be with one another. The hands on Blaine’s hips are gripping hard, and someone is moaning into the kiss. For a second, Blaine is sure he feels Kurt hard up against him, warm and tempting -- until Kevin slams in, causing them to jump apart guiltily. Blaine sags against the door frame, face too hot and skin too tight. Kurt just smoothes his shirt a little, shooting him a quick wink before giving Kevin a cool greeting. 

Moments like this are when he knows that even though taking it slow is the right choice, the rest of his body seems to think it’s the worst thing he’s ever tried to do to himself. 

~*~ 

He starts unpacking his own boxes -- the things he hadn’t needed through finals -- in his new apartment the next week. He has a pretty well established routine for finals set by now: eating, sleeping, and studying, 80% of which had been done in comfortable clothes and in the privacy of his room. 

Cleaning out the box filled with stuff from his desk and singing along loudly to an old CD he’d unearthed from the catacombs of his bottom drawer, Blaine has to pause over a parcel, faded paper folded around a packet of papers and postcards. Spilling onto his lap, he sees pictures of New York, old and outdated brochures for schools he’d dreamed of attending -- NYU, Columbia, NYADA. Musing, he thumbs through them, wondering why he’s kept them so long, taking up space in his drawers, even though he thinks he knows. 

Throwing them away would have meant giving up on a dream, on pieces of himself he’d pushed aside and turned away from for Ryan. At the time, there were so many things he’d given up on, given away, walked away from. Toward the end, he had felt invisible and numb, completely hollowed and almost unreal, but deep inside had been a spark, some small amount of tinder, waiting for just the smallest breath of hope. Giving up on this was something he hadn’t really been prepared to do. He’d just been waiting for the right moment to walk away from Ryan and start building again. 

But now… now he has Kurt. Picking up a postcard sent by Wes last semester, the New York skyline beguiling and wanton, Blaine wonders how long that will be enough for him. He wants Kurt, yes. Loves him, and needs him, but he shouldn’t be defining himself as an extension of someone else anymore. Kurt doesn’t want that. He thinks about New York wistfully and longingly, then shakes his head. 

He tucks the brochures back in the drawer, then pins the postcard to the empty bulletin board, left behind by the previous tenant, to look at and wonder. He is happy, so happy now, and it isn’t just Kurt. It’s Kurt and school and not having Ryan in his life. It’s new friends and the freedom to go where he wants to and when he wants to. Soon, that might not be enough for him, even if it is now. And when it isn’t, he’ll pick this up again, unpin an old postcard, and think about the things he wants to make himself more whole, more happy, and find a way to have them all in his life. 

~*~ 

He’s unpacking his suitcases when he finds the scarf Kurt gave him months ago. It no longer smells like Kurt, which is a shame. Standing, Blaine drapes the scarf carefully before looking at himself in the mirror. It’s too warm for scarves, but he wishes it weren’t. He wants to wear it, to take Kurt to dinner and feel the cashmere close to his skin. To wonder what it might feel like, were Kurt to unwind it slowly, the tips of his long fingers brushing against Blaine’s neck. 

Frowning, Blaine stops. He’s never taken Kurt out. They’ve never even been on a proper date; failed sushi and a near argument definitely don’t count. Kurt is working now, Blaine knows, but he’ll be out of work at five, which gives Blaine a couple of hours to get dressed (which means he’ll have to iron, all of his clothes are distressingly creased from haphazard packing) and get ready. 

His room is a wreck, which just won’t work. Candles, he’s thinking, and music are definitely required. He pulls an outfit out of the pile of clothes on his bed, shoving the rest into his closet and wrestling it closed. There are still unpacked boxes on the floor, and his new desk is littered with books and papers he wasn’t sure what to do with. Paralyzed by indecision, Blaine surveys the mess. 

“Yo.” Jeff leans against the door frame. He has an apple in one hand, which he’s chewing loudly. Blaine exhales and closes his eyes. Chewing noises make him incredibly irritated, and he’s already pretty stressed out. 

“Yes?” Blaine tries not to snap, he really does. He’s guessing from the way Jeff’s eyebrows shoot up that he hasn’t been all that successful. He feels a little tug of discomfort, letting his irritation out. Taking a deep breath, he apologizes. 

“I’m sorry. I’m stressing. I wan-“ He grits his teeth. “Jeff, for the love of god, can you stop with the apple for a second?” 

“Dude,” Jeff mumbles around a mouthful, “What is your problem?” Blaine waits until Jeff has finished chewing before darting in to grab the apple. 

“I can’t talk to you while you’re chewing like that.” Blaine holds it behind his back. “If you can’t stop crunching, I’m just going to have to hold onto it until we’re done here.” He grits his teeth when Jeff starts laughing. 

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you annoyed before. This is awesome.” 

Blaine tries to suppress his smile. “Fuck off.” He ducks his head, laughing a little as he sets the apple on his desk, which is still a mess of scattered papers and assorted flotsam. He’s never going to get his room ready. 

“No, seriously, Blaine. What’s up? You look like you’re kind of freaking out.” 

Blaine takes a deep breath; he’s grateful, more now than usual, that Jeff’s always been such a good friend. It’s new, and a little uncomfortable, but undeniably nice, to be able show how he’s feeling and have someone take it in stride. 

“Well.” Blaine runs his hand through his hair, which reminds him he needs to shower and shave as well. “I just realized that Kurt and I haven’t gone on an official date yet. So I wanted to do that. But my room is a mess and I have to iron and I wanted to get him flowers and candles and I have to shower. Shit.” 

“You’re taking Kurt to your room for your first date? Blaine, you dog.” Jeff holds a hand up to high five, which Blaine ignores. 

“No, you idiot, I’m taking him to dinner. Aren’t you paying attention?” Blaine is moving boxes as he speaks, trying to pile them in a way that isn’t obtrusive or ugly. It’s not working. 

“Dude, don’t take this out on me. You’re the one that wants a clean room and candles.” Jeff snorts when Blaine kicks the pile of boxes. 

“Well, of course I want a clean room. I’d like to come back here after dinner.” Blaine wonders for a minute if Jeff needs him to spell it out slowly. Damn it, romance is not that hard to understand. 

“And I repeat,” Jeff says, “Blaine, you dog. Get some.” 

“Oh my god, Jeff.” Blaine throws a book at him. “I’m not trying to ‘get some.’ I’m trying to romance him.” 

“Okay, whatever. Romance him. Get some. I don’t care. But if you’re gonna throw shit at me, I won’t help you.” Blaine turns hopefully toward him. 

“Wait, you’re going to help me?” 

“Anything for you, bro. Especially if it means you guys are getting some. I’m freaking tired of all these fucking longing glances and tension-filled silences or whatever the hell they’re called.” Jeff moves away from the door, shooing Blaine aside and grabbing the half-eaten apple perched on Blaine’s desk. “Go to the store and get your candles and shit. I’ll move these boxes for you. We can put them in my room for now.” 

“Oh my god, Jeff, I love you.” Blaine rushes to get his wallet before tackling Jeff in a one-sided hug. “I’ll be right back.” He’s already pulling his cell phone out to text Kurt, leaving Jeff laughing behind him. 

_To Kurt: What time will you be home?_

Blaine starts his car, pulling out slowly. He knows it might take Kurt a bit to respond, since he’s at work. He checks his phone again when he pulls into the grocery store parking lot. No text. He texts again. 

_To Kurt: I want to take you out tonight. Can I pick you up at six?_

He’s collected his candles and is debating over flower arrangements when he finally gets a text back. 

_To Blaine: Blaine Anderson. What makes you think 45 minutes is enough time for me to get ready?_

He laughs, causing the middle aged woman next to him to shoot him a reproving glance. He ignores her and texts back. 

_To Kurt: I bet you look perfect right now._

To Blaine: Well. Yes. But still. 6:30? 

To Kurt: Fine. Make me wait an extra 30 minutes before I can kiss you. Sigh. 

To Blaine :D XO 

To Kurt: XO 

Finally settling on a multi-hued bouquet of roses, Blaine pockets his phone. They’re a beautiful array of reds and oranges; Blaine can’t wait to see Kurt’s reaction to getting them. He can tell he has a stupidly big smile on his face, but doesn’t care. 

“Candles, check.” Blaine eases out of his parking spot, running through his checklist, “Flowers, check. Room cleared… maybe. Now, shower, clothing, and… stuff.” Blaine wonders how he can bring Kurt back from dinner and get him to wait while he lights the candles. Or if he’ll even manage to get Kurt back. Maybe Kurt’s going to think it’s too forward, asking him to come back. Oh, god, what if it is? He wants to romance him, not have sex with him. 

“Scratch that,” Blaine mutters. He definitely wants to have sex with Kurt. Just not tonight. “Not that I’m going to object to making out.” He taps his fingers along to a to Katy Perry song, thinking about kissing Kurt. He has to brake suddenly to avoid running a red light. “Okay, Blaine. Eyes on the prize. Drive, don’t die. Stop talking to yourself.” 

Blaine finds Jeff on the couch, but thankfully his room has been divested of its boxes. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He breezes past Jeff, dropping a king-sized Snickers bar in his friend’s lap. 

“No problem!” Jeff is already unwrapping it. Thank god it’s not an apple. “Hey, Blaine, I was thinking. How are you going to light the candles and make your room all romantic and stuff if you’re out to dinner?” 

“I don’t know.” Blaine calls from his room, where he’s unpacking tea lights and little glass jars, strategically placing them around his room. “I’m still figuring this all out. What if he doesn’t want to come back here? What if he thinks I’m just trying to get in his pants?” 

“Aren’t you?” Jeff is eyeing the room, moving candles and twitching under Blaine’s baleful stare. 

“No. Well, not really. I mean. Well, it would be nice, but that’s not the point.” Blaine stops, hands on his hips, glaring at the candles on his nightstand. This is so confusing. 

“Okay, well, I can’t help you with that. You’ll have to figure that one out on your own. But I can help you with the candles. Just text me when you are leaving the restaurant, and I’ll light them. I can even be conveniently ‘gone’ when you come back.” 

Blaine mimes the air quotes Jeff’s just done. “What does ‘gone’ mean? You’ll be gone, or you’ll be hiding in your room?” 

“Why do you care, since you’re not trying to get into his pants?” Jeff shoots back. Blaine can’t help but roll his eyes. Jeff can be so infuriating sometimes. 

“I can’t even- I just-“ He throws his hands up, turning in a circle. “I don’t have time for this. I have to shower and shave and iron and freak out and then go get him.” He’s already stripping his shirt off and grabbing clean boxers, wondering if he should multi-task the showering and freaking out. He probably already is. 

“Okay, chill. I’ll be in my room. Text me when you’re coming back. Breathe. I am going to leave now before any more clothing comes off.” Laughing, Blaine closes his door behind Jeff. 

“Thank you. You are awesome even when you kind of suck.” He’s still laughing as he steps into the shower. 

~*~ 

“Who are you texting?” Kurt leans over the console to try to sneak a peek at Blaine’s cell phone screen. 

“Nosy nosy.” Blaine twists so Kurt can’t see the screen, tapping out a quick text to Jeff. 

_To Jeff: Leaving the restaurant now. But don’t light them yet._

He puts the phone down, nervously fiddling with a crack in the case when he looks up at Kurt, who is checking his hair in the car visor, muttering about humidity and extra hold hairspray. Something warm and comfortable spirals through Blaine, and when he takes Kurt’s hand, it’s with a smile. His worries and stress have melted over the course of dinner -- he’d momentarily forgotten how easy it is with Kurt. 

“I had a really good time tonight, Blaine,” Kurt says. 

Blaine shrugs a little, smiling. “Will you come back with me, and spend the night?” He speaks just as Kurt is about to, and Kurt stops, mouth open a little, caught off-guard. “I mean, to sleep. And just- yeah.” Blaine ducks his head. 

“I- I don’t have anything with me.” Kurt looks like he’s trying to hold back a smile, and Blaine bites back a relieved laugh. 

“We can stop by your place if you want.” They look at each other for a few seconds before Kurt nods, fingers gripping Blaine’s tightly. Nervous butterflies settle in Blaine’s stomach as he nods back, then turns on the ignition. 

Blaine takes the time Kurt is gone getting a text ready to send to Jeff for when Kurt comes back out. The butterflies seem to be multiplying in his stomach; he feels thin-skinned and thrumming with anticipation. Somehow, even watching Kurt get out of his car seems sexy, and when Kurt slides out of the apartment, closing the outside door carefully behind him, Blaine hits send and takes a deep, settling breath. 

_To Jeff: On our way. Candles are a go._

When he pulls into the parking lot of his apartment building five minutes later, Blaine’s whole body is tense with nervous excitement. He and Kurt have been singing along to various songs on the radio, harmonizing between bouts of laughter and random conversation. He helps Kurt out of the car, taking the time to admire the way Kurt’s slim body fills out his clothing. There’s something about the way Kurt dresses, even when he’s got layer after layer on, that is so sexy to Blaine. 

“You look amazing, by the way.” 

“So you’ve said.” In the darkness, Blaine can’t see the happy flush on Kurt’s cheeks, but he can hear it in the pleased timbre of his voice. “You look pretty good yourself.” Blaine just smiles, anticipating taking Kurt into his room. He hopes Jeff is done with the candles by now. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment by checking his phone. The night air is laden with the sounds of summer, warm moonlight guiding them to the door. 

He toes off his shoes by the coat closet, watching Kurt as he carefully unlaces his boots. Kurt in socks that is so disarming. The thing about Kurt is that the whole package of his appearance is often overwhelming in the best kind of way. It can be easy to forget that this Kurt, who is dressed to the nines and perfectly coiffed, is also the Kurt who wakes with adorable bed hair and secretly likes to wear fuzzy socks in the winter. 

Kurt cocks a brow at him expectantly. “Did you bring me back here just to stare at me all night?” 

“Maybe,” Blaine sasses back, collecting Kurt’s hand and tugging him toward his room. He ushers Kurt in first. 

“Oh my god, _Blaine._ ” He peeks over Kurt’s shoulder. The room does look amazing with all the tea lights casting a warm glow over the walls. The flowers he’s bought sit on the nightstand, hazing in the candlelight. Kurt’s fingers are covering his cheeks, and, through them, Blaine can see a big smile peeking through. 

“Blaine,” Kurt turns to him, head tilted, “This is beautiful. Thank you.” 

“These are for you.” He gestures nervously toward the flowers. His room feels too small, and his heart is racing. Kurt is stunning in the candlelight. 

“Thank you.” Kurt pulls him forward to kiss him gently on the lips. “Thank you, thank you,” he whispers, kissing along Blaine’s jaw, pulling Blaine’s arms around his waist. Blaine captures Kurt’s lips in a longer kiss, deeper, until his breath is shortening. Slowly, he runs his hands up to Kurt’s shoulders, then forward to the buttons of Kurt’s vest. 

“Is this okay?’” he asks. Kurt swallows, then nods. Their mouths meet again as Blaine works Kurt out of his vest. His lips over Kurt’s are gentle; he takes the time to part them slowly, drawing the moment out. He trembles when Kurt exhales shakily, tongue slipping into Blaine’s mouth confidently. 

He whimpers when Kurt’s hands come up to line his face, tilting Blaine’s head so he can direct the kiss. Soon enough, their mouths are meeting desperately, their kisses becoming sloppy and feverish. Blaine pulls away to bite at Kurt’s ear, relishing the moan this elicits. 

Kurt’s fingers are fumbling at the buttons of his shirt when he whispers. “Tell me if this is too much.” 

Blaine shakes his head, and Kurt keeps going until Blaine is in his undershirt. He backs Kurt up until Kurt’s knees hit the side of his bed. He sits, hands pulling the material of Blaine’s shirt up enough to expose his stomach, which Kurt kisses softly. 

“Blaine, oh my god, you are so sexy.” Kurt’s thumbs trace the grooves of his hips; Blaine steadies himself, hands on Kurt’s shoulders. He’s about to push Kurt back when Kurt’s hands wind their way around, grabbing his ass. Blaine freezes for a moment before pushing Kurt back. His skin is flushing cold, then hot, and his heart starts racing. Ignoring the instinctive bolt of fear, he follows Kurt down onto the bed. 

_It’s okay_ , he tells himself. _This is Kurt. I’m okay._

Kurt rolls them until they are on their sides, lifting up on one elbow to kiss along Blaine’s shoulder. One warm hand traces over the contours of Blaine’s back and lower. Blaine’s breath catches, his body jolting away before settling again. 

“Are you okay?” Kurt pulls back, and Blaine takes a breath and then nods. _I’m fine_ , he keeps reminding himself. _Kurt would never hurt me._ He leans in to kiss Kurt, feeling his stomach turn when Kurt pulls him closer. No matter what he tells himsel thoughf, his body feels electrice with nerves and fear. Kurt’s hand cups the swell of his ass, and Blaine gasps, breaking away from Kurt before coming back to bury his face in Kurt’s neck. 

Kurt tries to pry Blaine away, but he just clings tighter, skin crawling with ghost touches he can’t forget. “Blaine, are you alright?” Kurt’s tone is calm, almost matter-of-fact, which makes it easier to shake his head. He hears Kurt swallow and closes his eyes. Blaine wants to shake himself, shake off the memory of Ryan’s fingers and hands. When Kurt’s arms come back around him, they are gentle, and Blaine melts into the touch. 

Long minutes pass in silence while Blaine breathes, focusing on the sounds of his breath and Kurt’s heartbeat. Kurt’s body is very still next to his, as if he’s afraid the slightest movement might set Blaine off again. When Blaine opens his eyes, it’s to a blaze of candlelight and the weight of a wonderful evening ruined. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No,” Kurt cuts him off. “Please don’t apologize.” 

“But I’ve ruined everything.” Feeling safe enough to move back, Blaine looks up at Kurt, whose eyes are wide and distressed. “Blaine…” Kurt sighs, shifting until he’s lying evenly with Blaine, face to face. He reaches for Blaine’s hand. “You haven’t ruined anything. We’re still here, together, aren’t we? This has been the most romantic night of my life.” 

“But this-“ Blaine starts 

“This is just something we need to work through. There’s a reason we wanted to take things slow. So that we could enjoy them, but also so that we could figure out what works and what doesn’t work. Something I did triggered you, so we’ll figure it out and work around it, but I don’t ever want you to apologize, because it’s not your fault.” Kurt looks into his eyes, fingers squeezing Blaine’s tight. 

“It’s not my fault,” Blaine whispers, trying to believe the words. Kurt nods, eyes never leaving his. “It’s not my fault.” Saying it louder, Blaine tries to feel more sure, more secure in the knowledge that it isn’t his fault. 

Blaine shifts so his knees are bumping against Kurt’s, draping one arm over Kurt’s waist. Kurt’s body is warm and solid and real, something comforting to tether himself to. 

“It was when you grabbed my ass,” He confesses, nuzzling into Kurt’s touch. Kurt’s fingers in his hair stop for a second then resume. 

“Okay,” Kurt starts, then stops. Blaine darts a look at him; Kurt seems to be thinking of what to say next. 

Clearing his throat, Blaine jumps in. “It was this thing Ryan used to do when he wanted sex. He’d grab me and pull me closer so I could feel… him. It got so that just having him touch me there at all made me feel sick.” Blaine’s fingers trace invisible patterns over Kurt’s side. He hardly notices when Kurt shivers. 

“Sorry, ticklish,” Kurt whispers. Blaine smiles, exhaling and feeling some of the tension leave his body. This time it’s he who moves up on an elbow, smiling down at Kurt. With careful fingers he traces Kurt’s full lips, the line just under his eyebrow, along the edge of his nose. When he cups Kurt’s cheek, Kurt meets him halfway into the kiss. There’s no demand, just the fullness of a moment, promise and understanding being exchanged. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kurt’s fingers are soft against the skin of his neck. 

Blaine closes his eyes, shaking his head. “No. Not right now, if that is okay.” 

“Blaine.” The kiss that lands on his forehead is cool and comforting. “Whatever you need is okay. I am always going to be here whenever you do need to talk.” 

“Thank you.” Resting his forehead against Kurt’s, Blaine lets himself feel the security of Kurt’s love. “I’m going to get changed and ready for bed.” 

“All right.” Kurt nudges him gently aside as he sits up. Moving to lean against the headboard, Blaine settles back to watch as Kurt searches through his overnight bag, disappearing into the bathroom. He takes the time to change his pants for more comfortable ones. Although he usually sleeps without a shirt on, it feels weird to take his off in this context. They’ve never been shirtless together. Blaine decides to leave his tank top on. He fusses with the candles for a minute, moving some of them and relighting some that have gone out. He isn’t ready for their date to end. 

It doesn’t hit him until later, when he’s falling asleep with Kurt in his arms, how comfortable he is. How safe he felt in knowing Kurt would listen and understand. He’d felt no pressure to pick up where they’d left off before he’d freaked out. Instead, they’d lain and talked for over an hour, whispered conversations amidst small touches and easy kisses. And when Blaine had asked to be the big spoon, Kurt hadn’t even paused, rolling over and scooting his body against the curve of Blaine’s. 

Kurt is sleeping now, breath even and deep. In the dark, Blaine wishes for many things. A time when he won’t have the ghost of Ryan in his life, the presence of his fears tarnishing some of the happiest moments he’s had. He wants to always have Kurt with him, who is his best friend, the person he relies on and who knows him best.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey.” Blaine opens the door to Kurt, automatically accepting the kiss on his cheek. “I am so sorry.”

“Sorry about...“ Kurt trails off, hearing shouted voices coming from the living room. “I thought you said-“ 

“I know. I swear, they were supposed to be gone, but they left the bar ‘cause the game they wanted to watch wasn’t on.” 

Kurt makes a face. “They’re watching it here?” 

“Well,” Blaine looks down, tracing a socked toe over the laminate floor. “They were watching. Now they’re drinking and playing quarter bounce.” He watches Kurt set down his bag with a sigh. “I’m so sorry. Can we maybe go to your place and cook dinner? We can just take the food over there.” But Kurt is already shaking his head. 

“Sarah’s having a romance party.” Kurt sits on one of the stools lining the breakfast bar. 

“Oh, what’s that? That sounds fun.” 

Kurt laughs, blushing. “It’s a sex toy party, Blaine.” 

Blaine closes his eyes. “Oh. Okay. Yeah. Well.” He turns, watching the guys in the living room for a second, feeling his face heat up. “Never mind that. I guess we can go out.” 

Kurt’s smile is small and disappointed; Blaine feels the same. He’d been looking forward to an evening in with Kurt. They’d planned to cook dinner together, and Jeff and Nick had promised to be at the bar all night. 

“Hey, Kurt.” Nick calls, leaning back to get a clear view. “Come play with us, you guys.” 

Blaine breaks in, “No. Thanks, guys, but-“ 

“Come on,” Jeff joins in. “You guys never hang out with us anymore. You’re always doing boring couple things.” 

“Always?” Blaine looks at them skeptically. “We haven’t even been together that long.” He looks over when Kurt tugs on his hand. Kurt raises a shoulder, and Blaine shrugs back. 

“It feels like forever,” Jeff mutters. Blaine smiles and lets Kurt pull him into the circle. 

“Alright, alright. We’ll play.” He’d been hoping that tonight might be special, just him and Kurt, alone. With _time_. Kurt is sitting next to him, smile genuine and open as Jeff hands him a shot glass. He’s beguiling and sexy, and Blaine wants him so bad. Blaine is still glad he asked Kurt if they could go slow, but any slower and he thinks he might die. 

Accepting the fact that he won’t be romancing Kurt tonight, Blaine takes his own shot glass, clinking it with Kurt’s before downing it. At least if Kurt is drinking, Blaine will be able to convince him to spend the night. Falling asleep next to Kurt is, hands down, his new favorite activity, despite Kurt’s complaints about the size of his bed. He has his own room now, and a bigger bed than when they were in the dorms. A bigger bed that was made for cuddling. And -- please, god -- maybe, one day, more. 

~*~ 

By ten, they’re on the floor of the living room, still playing stupid drinking games. The only real furniture they have is an old couch and Blaine’s futon, a fact that makes Kurt want to cry because they are both hideously ugly. But they’re poor college students, and judging by the amount of alcohol Jeff and Nick are going through, it’s probably best that they haven’t gotten furniture they don’t want to see ruined. 

Unfortunately for Blaine, Jeff has always been the sort of drunk that feels better when at least one person is drunker than he is. Canny, even when wasted, he waits until everyone has had a few drinks before pouncing. Knowing his prey, he suggests that they play Never Have I Ever. Blaine’s a few drinks in, which everyone knows means he’s up for almost anything. This kind of annoys Kurt, who values his privacy too much for this sort of thing. 

“Come on, Blaine, really?” Kurt complains, tugging on Blaine’s hand. He’s not that drunk, but he’s drunk enough that he wouldn’t be embarrassed to leave the room and go make out with Blaine. 

“Noooo, Kurt, come on, the floor is so comfy.” Blaine gives him an adorably tipsy smile, and Kurt gives in. 

“Okay, but just for a little while, please?” Kurt leans in to whisper in Blaine’s ear. “I want to be alone with you.” 

“Mmm, yeah?” Blaine turns to run his nose along Kurt’s jaw line, which feels wonderful but makes him blush. Kurt pulls away and nods meaningfully at the circle of people in the room, and Blaine blinks slowly. Kurt has to stop himself from leaning forward to kiss him. Letting Blaine play for a few minutes can’t be that bad. 

What he doesn’t realize, and neither does Blaine, is that Blaine’s been targeted as the person Jeff thinks he can most easily manipulate into getting seriously drunk. The first few questions are predictable, until Jeff’s turn comes around. 

“Never have I ever kissed a guy.” Margo has bowed out of the game early, choosing instead to sprawl near the doorwall and talk to her boyfriend on the phone, leaving their friend Kelley as the only girl in the circle. Blaine gives Kurt a sweet smile and then drinks. Kurt busies himself by playing with Blaine’s fingers while the questions go around the circle again. 

“Never have I ever touched another guy’s dick.” Jeff winks at Kelley, ignoring Kurt’s glare. Blaine drinks placidly, humming a little under his breath. Kurt wants to laugh because he can tell by the adorable way Blaine is frowning that he’s trying to think of his next never. He doesn’t want to be obvious about it, but he’s trying to monitor Blaine’s alcohol consumption. Nursing him through getting sick isn’t on his agenda for the night. 

Kurt listens as the questions become more crude and personal. Blaine seems to be paying more attention to the song playing in the background than the game. Kurt wonders if it is time to make out yet. 

So when Jeff laughs and hollers, “Never have I ever fucked another guy in the ass!” Kurt lets out an annoyed huff and starts to stand. Jeff is poking Blaine with his foot and laughing, “Dude, drink.” 

“Why?” Blaine is in his most adorable phase of drunkenness, sweet and harmless and affable. “I’ve never done that. Can’t drink if you haven’t done it.” His laugh is low, and when he leans over, he topples against Kurt, who catches Blaine and helps him sit up, covering up his embarrassment and irritation with a frosty glare directed at Jeff. Thankfully, Nick breaks in with a ridiculous question. Everyone is laughing when Blaine kisses the side of his neck and sighs. 

“Mmm, love you. Love your smell. You smell so good.” Kurt pushes Blaine’s hands away. He wants to make out with Blaine, sure, but he definitely does not want to do it with an audience. 

“And you smell like a distillery.” 

Blaine’s grumbled pout is all kinds of cute, and Kurt can’t help but run his fingers through his loosened curls. Blaine needs a haircut; his hair is much too long, but, secretly, Kurt hopes he’ll put it off for a bit longer. Blaine is a naturally deep sleeper; mornings spent watching Blaine sleep and playing with his curls are some of the best spent time he remembers in a long while. 

“Can we go now?” he asks Blaine, low, and Blaine nods. Helpfully, he holds his hands up for Kurt to pull him up. They both ignore Jeff’s catcall when they walk back to Blaine’s room, Blaine swaying a bit and steadying himself on Kurt’s shoulder. 

Kurt closes the door behind himself, watching Blaine trip over a shoe that’s been left in the middle of his floor. Outside, someone turns on loud music, which necessitates the removal of Blaine from the bed, where he’s determined to dance. Thankfully, there is no real furniture to ruin when he falls, only his pride. Blaine doesn’t seem to care much at all, other than trying to convince Kurt he needs to kiss it and make it better. 

Since they’re in the privacy of Blaine’s room, he does, soft and tender. Long minutes are spent lingering over each other’s lips, hands exploring gently, covering familiar territory. When Blaine pulls him in harder, moaning against Kurt’s mouth, he pulls away. 

“You’re drunk,” Kurt whispers, shivering as Blaine’s fingers feather against the small of his back. 

“So?” Blaine’s fingers have found their way into the waistband of his pants. Kurt groans and pulls away. 

“So you’re drunk, and maybe this is a good time to stop,” he explains. 

“Oh my god, please, no.” Blaine drops his head on Kurt’s chest with a thunk. Kurt runs his fingers over Blaine’s arms soothingly. Secretly, he feels the same way. He wonders if it is possible to have a heart attack from sexual frustration. 

“I’m sorry. Trust me, I am _so_ sorry.” 

Blaine looks up, eyes wide and innocent as he tiptoes his fingers up Kurt’s thigh. Kurt twitches away, smiling ruefully. He scoots down until their faces are level. 

“I know this sucks, but come on. Do you really want to remember our first time as that time when you were drunk and I was too horny to say no?” Blaine sighs, then shakes his head. They kiss softly until Kurt pulls away, sighing a whispered goodnight and falling asleep with his head still on Blaine’s pillow. 

~*~ 

The next day, Blaine wakes up to a mild hangover and some new bruises. Breakfast at noon is hashbrowns and bacon, and, for once, Kurt doesn’t mention his hips or impending heart attacks. He takes a third slice of bacon with a look that dares Blaine to say anything. Blaine doesn’t speak; instead, he smiles and brushes a finger against Kurt’s knee under the counter, where it is pressed against his thigh. 

They spend a lazy day watching TV and completing a crossword puzzle together. Blaine doesn’t say anything about the night before. He helps Jeff clean up a bit before retreating to the futon to lie down with his head in Kurt’s lap. Kurt thinks fleetingly of the night before, of kisses shared with Blaine in the near darkness. Jeff leaves to meet some girl he’s into for coffee, and Kurt watches old episodes of Project Runway while Blaine sleeps. 

Eventually, Blaine wakes up and convinces Kurt to curl up with him while they watch together. He’s very quiet; Kurt figures he might still be a little hungover and lets him be, so he’s a little surprised when Blaine carefully rolls over to face him. Kurt wraps an arm around Blaine’s waist to keep him close. He barely has to lean in to touch their lips together. Kurt’s just beginning to press closer when Blaine pulls away suddenly. 

“Last night… when we were playing that game?” 

“Yeah?” Kurt doesn’t move. Blaine’s fingers are threading through his hair, massaging and warm. He’s relaxed and turned on and hyper aware of every part of Blaine that is pressed up against him, only without any sense of urgency. He’s enjoying the way every small shift of Blaine’s muscles draws his attention to something new, the way curiosity pools in his stomach. 

“Did… was Jeff- did he… wow, this is kind of embarrassing. Did he really ask about… did I answer?” The words are tripping over each other; Kurt can feel the way Blaine exhales around them. He can feel his own face turning red. He sits up carefully, propping himself up and watching as Blaine pushes himself up as well. 

“I-“ Kurt’s fingers are over his lips and his face is burning. He avoids repeating Jeff’s charming phrasing. “I guess we should talk about this, hmm.” He thinks of what to say, remembering the night before. He’s been wondering why Blaine didn’t drink. “Well… you didn’t drink, and, um, you said you’d never, but I guess you were lying.” 

“Well, no.” Kurt isn’t sure what the look Blaine is giving him means. “Why would I be lying?” 

“I- you … I mean, you were with Ryan for almost three years. I just assume at some point… I mean that’s a dumb assumption, maybe?” Feeling really naive and unsure of his footing, Kurt trails off, now biting at the side of his thumb. Blaine is shrugging and not looking him in the eye -- a sure sign he’s thinking something that he isn’t saying. Frustrated, Kurt groans a little then steels himself. 

“Okay, honesty time. I’ve never done it… either way… I mean- it just… I know it sounds dumb, all things considered, but it always seemed really personal and I kind of… wanted to save something. Is that dumb? It never felt like something I wanted to do with a stranger.” 

“That makes sense.” Blaine’s fingers reach out, turning his hand over and then tracing the lines of his palm. 

“I’m glad. Really glad. That I still have something like that to give. To someone special. To someone I love.” Honesty be damned. Kurt knows that what he wants to say is that he is glad he has it to give to Blaine, this one experience he’s never had with anyone else. One last thing he managed to save instead of throwing it away. Something special that, for the rest of his life, he’ll be able to remember sharing with a beautiful boy he loves. Saying that out loud feels a bit presumptuous, considering the currently chaste state of their relationship. 

“Good. Me, too.” Blaine is still not looking at him, which is a bit worrisome. 

“Blaine- wait, what?” Kurt tries to duck his head, hoping to catch Blaine’s eye, but Blaine is determinedly not to look up, running his fingers in between Kurt’s fingers steady and slow. He watches as Blaine takes a breath, then another; the way he seems to gather himself, getting ready to push the words out. It’s like this sometimes; Blaine has to work at saying things when they are uncomfortable, when he is trying to ask for something for himself. Patient, Kurt flutters his fingers against Blaine’s, curling his legs under himself and settling in. 

“When I met Ryan, I was really inexperienced and, god, just stupidly romantic and young. Everything was- it went so fast and he...” Blaine shakes his head, thankfully not looking up. Kurt isn’t sure he can stop the frown brought on by hearing Ryan’s name, only he doesn’t want Blaine to think it’s directed at him. Blaine clears his throat and looks up at the ceiling. “The first time Ryan ever… um… got me off, we’d just started dating and it was really fast and I was… embarrassed and…” Blaine clears his throat. “I had these ideas about how romantic my first time would be. It was nothing like what actually happened. I kind of freaked out, and Ryan was pissed, understandably because, you know, it’s kind of bad etiquette to leave someone hanging like that… and not, um, finish things.” 

Kurt can’t stop the huff of annoyance, “No, Blaine, that’s ridiculous. How old were you?” 

“Seventeen? Yeah, it was just after my 17th birthday. But still. I mean, he was right, what kind of 17-year-old freaks out over something like that? Isn’t that every guys’ dream?” 

“Oh my god, no. No.” Kurt tugs on Blaine’s hand. “Listen to me, Blaine. There isn’t just one kind of guy. That’s such old-school thinking. Do you really believe that? You know better than to buy into that kind of crappy, gender-as-a-binary type of thinking. Am I somehow less of a man to you because I want romance and candles and flowers? More of a man because I used to give strangers blow jobs in a bathroom stall? Because I don’t think either of those has anything to do with how much of a man I am. I think they have a lot to do with my heart, the things I want and the things I thought I deserved and what I came to expect for myself.” 

Blaine’s eyes on his are huge, round and golden yellow. Kurt curses himself, feeling a wave of shame, memories close and pressing against his skin. 

“No, no, Kurt, don’t do that.” Blaine is scooting closer, one hand coming up to cup his jaw. “You’re right. I don’t think any of that has to do with how much of a man you are.” Sighing, he props his head on a hand against the back of the futon. “It’s strange, learning to think about these things differently. Paradigm shift or something. For so long, I’ve thought about things one way. Learning to see it all differently is… challenging.” 

“That’s understandable.” Kurt kisses the palm against his cheek, waiting for Blaine to continue. 

“My parents weren’t -- aren’t -- thrilled that I’m gay. And, at Dalton, they don’t even have any sort of sex ed classes, so anything I ever learned I had to find out for myself. I went into things with Ryan with the information I had. I didn’t really know what I wanted, if I preferred one thing or another. So when Ryan said the he always topped, well, by the time we got there, it was just… that was that.” 

The silence that follows is long and, for both of them, uncomfortable. Kurt shifts, wondering what the right thing to say might be. They’ve never managed to do more than kiss, really, and although he can think of several things he might want to say, they don’t feel very appropriate. 

“That was kind of a lot of information, wasn’t it?” Sheepishly, Blaine shifts away a bit, stopping when Kurt grabs his knee. 

“No, no, I’m glad you told me. It’s just hard- I mean difficult- crap.” Kurt gives up, laughing when Blaine does. “Bad pun. I swear I didn’t mean it.” Moving closer, Kurt tucks his feet under Blaine’s thigh and his head into the crook of Blaine’s neck. “It’s difficult to think of what to say in response, because about 80 percent of the thoughts in my head aren’t appropriate, and this is a serious conversation. Suffice to say that I… have always wanted to… try all things, with the right person.” He pinches Blaine’s bicep lightly. “In order to see what I really like.” 

Blaine’s arms wind their way around him. Kurt smiles, his lips ghosting against the skin of Blaine’s neck, pursing and considering as he kisses softly. 

“Wow.” Blaine’s voice is wondering and low, his arms too tight for Kurt to pull back and get a good look at his face, to get a read on what he might be thinking. 

“Wow what?” Kurt prompts. Blaine’s shrug jostles him a bit, but he just burrows closer, fingers toying with the hem of Blaine’s t-shirt against his side. 

“It’s just… amazing. Stupid word really for what I’m feeling. But it is. To think that after everything… everything I regret, all the things that I feel like Ryan took from me, or that I gave him, to think I’d meet you and-“ 

“And?” 

“And have something left to give. Something new and untouched. Something that would be only for us. When the time is ready.” Blaine’s fingers are on his neck, thrilling his skin and lighting his nerves. Shivering a little, Kurt retaliates by biting softly at the curve where Blaine’s collar bone dips. When the time is ready, Kurt knows he wants this, more than anything, with Blaine. But he needs Blaine to be ready -- more ready than he is now. Still, he thinks, smiling as he licks and kisses his way up to Blaine’s ear and then mouth, he’s definitely ready to move past kisses. Kurt hopes sincerely that Blaine might be as well. 

Their lips meet, this time not with sweetness so much as urgency. Kurt pushes Blaine back until he’s on top of him, tucking himself between Blaine’s legs. Soon he’s trembling and achingly hard. Kurt twists to ruck up Blaine’s t-shirt, tracing his fingers against the defined muscles of Blaine’s stomach. Suddenly, Blaine stills, pulling away a little. 

“Everything okay?” Kurt doesn’t stop kissing him, peppering light kisses over Blaine’s lips and face. 

“Yeah, just, umm...” There’s a hesitation in Blaine’s voice, a tentative hitch that does make Kurt stop, pulling back to consider. “Is it okay, if- I mean… I’m not- I don’t want everything, but maybe we could… it’s just that waiting is kind of killing me, and you are so sexy, you’re sort of melting my brain right now.” Blushing and stammering, Blaine’s eyes widen as Kurt starts to giggle. Kurt sits up, reaching down to pull Blaine up and off of the futon. He tugs Blaine after him, hands linked behind him. Kurt leads Blaine into the bedroom and shuts the door with his foot. 

“It’s definitely okay. Just, please, promise me you’ll stop me if anything happens that you aren’t comfortable with.” Kurt loops his arms around Blaine’s shoulders, leaning his forehead against Blaine’s. “I love you, Blaine. I- is it cheesy to say, right now, that I love you so much and I want you to know that this… that anything between us, is-“ He stops, biting his lip and blinking hard, “It’s not just about you know… being horny or whatever, with you. Although that’s definitely a part of it.” 

Blaine’s smile is reassuring and warm; his hands on Kurt’s hips are a reminder and a promise. 

“I just want to be closer to you. I want to find ways to feel closer to you than I have to anyone else. Is that too cheesy?” 

Blaine is already shaking his head, breath ragged, fingers bruise hurting as they grip his hips. “No, no it’s perfect. It’s-“ Blaine clears his throat as his voice breaks. “It’s romantic.” His lips are fervent and seeking on Kurt’s; Kurt lets his body sway, supple and needy against Blaine’s, bending and molding into him. 

“You take my breath away.” Kurt’s whisper is the only sound in the quiet room, their fingers silent as they explore, curious and unashamed, under the hems of their shirts. Kurt dips his into the dimples at the base of Blaine’s back, biting hard on Blaine’s shoulder, shifting as Blaine gets through another layer, dragging his shirt down and off. 

He’s not sure what Blaine wants or expects, but can’t, or won’t, ask right now. For once, he wants to give himself over. He wants to give Blaine the power of decision, let him lead them any place he’s comfortable going. They topple onto the bed together, tangled arms and legs pressing and shifting to align their bodies and mouths. Blaine kisses his way down the column of Kurt’s neck, running his hands over Kurt’s body slowly. Inch by inch, he pulls Kurt’s undershirt off. 

“You are so beautiful.” Blaine’s praise whispered against the tender inside of his arm makes Kurt laugh a little and shiver, then moan, pulling and pressing Blaine up until they are a desperate mess of tongues and lips. Kurt can’t help but roll his hips up against Blaine where he can feel his erection against him. 

“Pants, Kurt, pants off, please.” Blaine is wrecked, trembling and barely able to hold himself propped up, and so Kurt rolls them until he’s hovering over Blaine. 

“Blaine, shhh, Blaine.” He carefully brushes the hair off of Blaine’s forehead, “Are you sure, is this okay?” 

“Oh my god, Kurt, it is _so_ okay.” Blaine laughs through the tears that are standing at the corners of his eyes, hands hot and grabbing at Kurt’s sides. Unsure, Kurt thumbs a tear away, laying his hand flat against the side of Blaine’s face, stilling him, eyes open and searching. Under him Blaine feels solid and real. Kurt can feel his own body pulsing, his skin thrumming against Blaine’s. 

“It’s… a lot. Wonderful, but a lot. To be like this, and to feel safe. And wanting, and wanted... it’s kind of amazing, just to be this turned on.” Stretching up, Blaine manages to drag him into a sweet kiss, before biting and then licking, tracing the lines of Kurt’s lips with his tongue. Soon it’s filthy, the way they are kissing. Groaning, Blaine’s fingers fumble nervously at the button of Kurt’s jeans. He’s just popped the button open when Kurt stiffens, brain flashing to other moments, other men who’ve done this. To all the men he’s let see him like this, but with whom he’s felt nothing akin to the love and yearning swamping him right now. 

“What, what?” Stilling his fingers, Blaine darts a look at Kurt, who can feel that his skin is flushed red; he avoids Blaine’s eyes. “Kurt, is everything okay?” Blaine’s movements are careful as he climbs up a little onto his elbows. Kurt melts into his touch, a smile warming his eyes as they kiss, and this time it’s slow and gentle. 

“Yes.” Kurt lays more solidly on Blaine, running his thumb over the curve of Blaine’s cheek. Everything about the moment smoothes and pulls like taffy, unwinding like ribbons as they touch with intention. Kurt breathes against the warm dampness of Blaine’s skin. He’s been so focused on Blaine, on not doing the wrong thing or touching him the wrong way, he’s almost forgotten that this is a big deal for him, too. Kurt’s been with a lot of men, but never like this. Never with one he loves. One who loves him so completely in return. 

Ignoring the unbuttoned pants, Blaine moves his fingers over Kurt’s skin, sealing sure touches against Kurt’s warm ribs. Under his hands, Kurt shudders and breathes out in one slow breath, fingers tight and gripping the taut muscles of Blaine’s back. The red staining his face is covering his chest and neck, he can tell. Blaine works slowly, uncovering more skin that begs to be enjoyed and savored. Kurt shudders and gasps, feeling turned on but also kind of silly. No one has ever touched his legs like this before, slow and steady and something like worship. No one has ever taken the time to appreciate and touch his body the way Blaine is. 

Together, they move over the bed, pulling and tugging clothes off, heedless to the change in atmosphere. What was frantic and desperate is now achingly intense, slow movements and appreciation for each touch. Kurt’s fingers are shaking when he divests Blaine of the last layer separating them, and where his forehead rests on Blaine’s chest he can feel the pounding beat of Blaine’s heart. It beats faster, harder than his; it’s silly, the pang Kurt feels, wishing they beat to the same rhythm. 

“Oh, god. Wow.” Kurt leans back a bit to admire Blaine’s body. It’s incredible, the muted light playing across tensed muscles and defined ridges. His fingers linger in the hollow of Blaine’s hip. When Blaine’s fingers trace slowly over his cock, soft but sure, Kurt has to close his eyes and inhale. Blaine rolls onto his side, looping an arm around Kurt’s waist to pull him closer. Forehead to forehead, they breathe together, gasping when their cocks touch. 

“Kurt, please.” Blaine brushes against him, movements jerky. Kurt’s body responds automatically, moving with the roll of Blaine’s hips. Pleasure hums through his arms and legs. Blaine moves his body over Kurt’s, the muscles of his arms standing out in sharp relief in the semi-darkness of the room. Kurt kisses and licks along Blaine’s bicep. A questioning noise escapes him when Blaine leans away to open a drawer. 

Blaine coats one hand in lube, eyes on Kurt’s. Kurt lies back, enjoying the way it feels to be under Blaine’s body, naked skin plastered to every inch of him. Blaine is heavy and hot, achingly hot, and hard all over, all slim lines and sex-smelling man. Kurt’s fingers lace with Blaine’s free hand as his other grasps their cocks together. Kurt shudders and moans into Blaine’s mouth, and Blaine can’t do much more than whimper a reply. Kurt’s eyes slam shut, fingers and toes tingling and curled with need, whispering _ohgodsoclose_ against Blaine’s neck. 

Kurt comes first, almost embarrassingly soon, but it’s okay because Blaine is watching, drinking him in like water. Eyes wide on his, Blaine looks like he’s never seen anything so incredible. 

“Beautiful, so beautiful,” Blaine breathes, pulling away a little when Kurt winces, too sensitive for the continued touch. Still trembling and coming down, he struggles to wrap a shaky hand around Blaine’s cock. It’s hard and thick in his hand, pulsing under his palm. He strokes slow, moaning along with Blaine when he bites down on Kurt’s shoulder and comes hard, up and over their chests. 


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine wakes up the next morning curled against Kurt. He watches as the sunlight filtering through the window plays across Kurt’s back. Softly, he traces lines over the smooth, clear skin, lighting on freckles and scattered moles. Kurt shifts, muscles rippling; Blaine’s mouth is dry, his cock already starting to harden. He kisses Kurt’s shoulder, and Kurt rolls back a little, giving Blaine a small smile.

“Hey,” Kurt whispers, rolling the rest of the way so that they lie flush, legs slotting and tangling automatically. Blaine watches the way Kurt’s lashes sweep against his cheek when he looks down. There’s a softness to Kurt right now; he’s naked in so many ways, unguarded and loose against Blaine’s body. 

“Hey yourself.” He registers the soft texture of Kurt’s hair as he brushes it back off of his high and clear forehead. Kurt just hums and turns into Blaine’s touch, sighing a little when Blaine rests his hand, cupping the curve of his cheek easily. Kurt’s reaches up to twine their fingers together, eyes crinkling a little when he smiles. 

“How are you doing?” Kurt voice is thick with sleep. 

Blaine watches the way Kurt’s eyes search his. With his face toward the streaming ribbons of sunlight, they’re a fine, clear blue, with a halo of golden yellow around his pupil. Blaine clears his throat, shifting his leg a little; the scratch of leg hair and the tension of Kurt’s strong thigh against him feels tethering, centering his energy within this bed and this beautiful boy. 

“I’m good.” Blaine huffs out a little laugh. _Good_ can’t even begin to touch how he’s feeling. “Do you remember what you said last night-” Blaine pauses, feeling the lingering silence of the apartment and the still morning air all around them. “...about wanting to feel closer to me than anyone else?” 

Kurt’s teeth dig beautifully into his sweet, pink lip when he nods; something tugs deep in Blaine’s stomach. 

“I knew what you meant when you said it...” Blaine leans forward until his forehead is against Kurt’s. He closes his eyes and breathes in. Kurt smells like Kurt, only better -- a little undone and less pristine. And, surprisingly, a little like Blaine’s cologne, as if their scents have been wrapping around each other through the night and into the morning. “..but I think now, I _really_ get it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Blaine senses the delicate vibrations of Kurt’s voice, translated through his skin. “I mean-” Blaine pauses, unsure. Kurt’s fingers, still tangled with his, squeeze gently. “With Ryan- I mean, in the beginning… it was nice. It felt good, but that was it. Just, you know-” Blaine clears his throat, cheeks heating as his heart trips a little, “Just getting off. And near the end, not so much even that.” 

His eyes are still closed; when Kurt’s lips touch his forehead, they’re warm and damp. Blaine lets the words rush out of him, tides ebbing, water running through him. It feels like letting go, like up until now he’s been watching the waves crest and crest and crest, but only now are they coming to shore, then washing out and leaving him open and willing to receive and to give and just _ready_. 

“But it was never like _this_.” Blaine opens his eyes when Kurt pulls back. They look at one another for one long, suspended minute, breathing together. Blaine leans into the halo of air around Kurt’s body. “Like I just need to be closer so I can show you in so many ways how much I love you.” His lips on Kurt’s are gentle. Kurt untangles his fingers, winding them around Blaine’s head, cradling it and brushing through Blaine’s unruly hair. 

“God, Blaine.” Kurt’s whisper traces over Blaine’s skin as he leaves butterfly kisses, light and barely there, over his cheeks and lips and eyelids. Kurt lets the words hang; Blaine understands -- there isn’t anything to say right now. 

Together, they linger in their own pocket of warmth, this world they’ve created together within their tiny space. Letting love unspool between their hearts and lips and bodies, they lean into one another and just breathe. 

~*~ 

Later, they take turns brushing their teeth, Blaine cursing when he can’t find his boxers amidst the mess in the room. By the time he gets back, still naked, he finds Kurt curled under the blankets. 

“Come, come.” Hands grasping, Kurt pulls Blaine into the bed, throwing covers over him and curling against him with a sigh. “How is it so cold in here? It’s June.” 

Blaine chafes his hands over Kurt’s back.“We have air conditioning.” 

“How can you guys afford that?” Kurt looks up, barely missing Blaine’s chin with his nose. 

“My parents.” Blaine shrugs, turning his attention to Kurt’s arms, which beg to be kissed. Running one hand up the length of Kurt’s thigh, Blaine settles closer until their bodies are touching. He throws a leg over Kurt’s hip, humming with pleasure when he feels Kurt’s dick, already hard against him. Kurt grinds up against him slow and sweet, meeting his mouth with needy kisses. 

Cautiously, Blaine runs his hands down until they are ghosting over Kurt’s ass. Kurt whimpers and pushes against his hands. Blaine grabs harder, bringing their pelvises together. 

“I can’t seem to get enough of you,” Blaine whispers, surprised and happy. Kurt smiles at him before leaning down to kiss and lick his way toward Blaine’s nipples. Leaning his head back, Blaine closes his eyes and sighs, letting the sensations wash over him. Kurt’s kisses are soft, slow lightning through his nerves. He whimpers when Kurt bites down on one nipple, hands threading through Kurt’s hair to hold him there. 

“I’ll have to add this to my list of things you like.” Kurt rubs the pad of his thumb against Blaine’s nipple, smiling widely. Blaine nods, sitting up to meet Kurt’s mouth with his. 

He pushes Kurt back down, trailing open-mouthed kisses and whispered praise over the planes of Kurt’s singularly beautiful body. Slowly, he pushes Kurt’s boxers down, revealing his erection, red and mouthwatering. Blaine trails his index finger over the head, smoothing the drop of precome over and down. Kurt twitches his hips up, gasping. 

Wanting to take his time, to savor everything Kurt’s body has to offer, Blaine continues to work Kurt’s boxers down, kissing along the inside line of his thigh, behind his knees, smiling when Kurt giggles. Once they’re off, Blaine moves back up slowly, running his lips and tongue back up, up and into the crease of Kurt’s thigh. Kurt’s legs fall apart, and Blaine uses one hand to cup his balls, fingers light and teasing. His other hand comes to circle Kurt’s cock, pumping slow and teasing. Kurt is letting out little moans and muttered pleas for more. Blaine watches, wide-eyed, taking in the small curve of Kurt’s body as he arches into the pleasure. 

It’s so much -- the smell of Kurt and the heat of his cock so close and real in Blaine’s hand. The intimacy of the moment winds inside him and opens gently. It’s like crocuses in the snow, a splash of hope and the first sign of spring. 

Kurt in his hands and in his bed is like that, like a part of Blaine is finally waking up, and every touch thrills through him, shocking and heightening his awareness. Kurt trusts him so much, body open and trembling for _his_ touch. Kurt’s eyes are closed, and his hands are running over his own skin, voice breathy and cracked when he whispers Blaine’s name. 

Retrieving the lube, Blaine spreads it over one hand before resuming his movements. Kurt’s hips are pumping with him, slow and steady. Kurt’s got one hand over his eyes and the other fisted in the sheets. Blaine traces his index finger slowly behind Kurt’s balls, judging his reaction, before doing it again a little harder. His dick throbs when Kurt arches, spreading his legs further apart. 

“Please, _ohmygod_ , please touch me, Blaine,” Kurt begs. 

Blaine laughs, mouth against Kurt’s stomach. “I am touching you.” His fist circles harder, coming up and over the head of Kurt’s cock every now and then. 

“No, no.” Kurt moves the hand that was covering his eyes, grabbing Blaine’s hand where it’s been toying with his balls and pressing it urgently against his hole. “Please, _please_ touch me. You’re driving me crazy.” Blaine swallows hard, lust surging through his body in hot waves. He presses his index finger against Kurt, moaning a little when he moans and pushes back. 

“I- I’ve never-“ Blaine starts. 

“Blaine.” Kurt arches against the gentle touch before running his hand down, stroking carefully through Blaine’s hair. “I’ve never either -- not with anyone else -- but, if it’s okay with you, I’d really like to. With you. If that’s okay.” Blaine leans in to kiss the sweet dip of Kurt’s navel, laughing a little as Kurt rambles. 

“It’s more than okay.” Blaine takes a deep breath, sitting up a little to drip more lube over his fingers. When he presses his finger to Kurt again, it sinks in easily, his muscles drawing him in deeper. Kurt bites down on the side of his hand, groaning loudly. 

“Holy shit,” Blaine breathes. The heat, it’s incredible. He can feel Kurt’s body pulsing around his finger. Starting slowly, he pulls out a little and pushes back in, relishing Kurt’s whimpered cries. 

“Oh, _oh yes_. Oh god, Blaine, you feel so good.” Kurt’s hand flies out blindly, finding Blaine’s arm. His fingers curl around it, and Blaine reaches with his free hand to touch Kurt’s cock again. Kurt’s skin is luminescent, his muscles visibly trembling as Blaine works both hands slowly. He takes the time to appreciate everything he can: the impossibly soft skin right at the head of Kurt’s cock. The squeeze and press of Kurt’s body tight around his finger. Kurt’s voice, soft and needy when he rocks himself back onto Blaine’s finger. 

“Another, please, _please_ , Blaine,” he begs. 

Blaine pauses, unsure. “Are you- it’s not too soon?” 

Kurt is already shaking his head, “No, no, definitely- uh- yeah, definitely not too soon.” Kurt’s eyes open, wide and burning on his. Blaine steadies himself before pushing his middle finger in, feeling Kurt’s body give. He pauses when Kurt gasps. 

“Are you okay?” He keeps pumping Kurt’s dick slow and steady, heart hammering in his chest. The last thing he wants to do is hurt him. 

“Yes, yes, _ohmygod_.” Kurt grinds down onto his fingers, eyes closed and hands in his hair. Blaine moves slowly, dragging his fingers against Kurt’s walls experimentally. Kurt is the most incredibly sexy thing he’s ever seen, wanton and desperately needy under his fingers. Suddenly he arches again, crying out, and Blaine can feel the pulsing of his orgasm around his fingers before he feels it in Kurt’s cock. Blaine works him through it, relishing Kurt’s gasps. 

Reluctantly, Blaine slips his fingers out of Kurt; the air around them seems suddenly so cold. 

Kurt stills eventually, aftershocks of pleasure twitching through his arms and legs. Groaning, Blaine takes himself in hand, pumping hard and fast. Kurt’s eyes open and he holds his arms out to Blaine. Blaine lays over his body, his hand splaying wide over Kurt’s belly, smearing come. Biting down on his lip, Blaine resists the urge to fuck himself, sloppy and hard, against Kurt’s sweet skin. 

“Blaine, Blaine.” Kurt’s voice is full of wonder. His eyes close with a whimpered moan when Blaine’s thumb swipes through the come again. “You were inside me.” Blue-green and intense, his eyes open and fix on Blaine, who is trembling and so close. He pulls Blaine down harder, using his hand to pull Blaine’s away from his cock. Kurt’s fingers are hot and sure when they grasp him, pressing him closer until his dick is slipping through the come against Kurt’s stomach. 

“Oh, shit, oh fuck, _Kurt_.” Blaine collapses until his face is millimeters from Kurt’s, hips pumping erratically against Kurt’s hand, pressed hard against his taut stomach. When he comes, it’s with a full-body shudder. In near silence, he lays his head against Kurt’s shoulder, sliding and twitching a little at a time against Kurt. 

Eventually Blaine shivers as his body cools. He knows he should get up soon and shower; they both should, but Kurt’s heart is beating against his, and Blaine’s never been so happy. Laughing, he leans up to press a chaste kiss to Kurt’s lips. 

“What?” Kurt’s smile is questioning, and Blaine just shakes his head. 

“I just- I love this. Being with you like this. It’s fun and hot and-” At a loss for words, Blaine settles for wrapping his arms around Kurt, holding him tight and close. Kurt smiles against Blaine’s neck. One finger traces Blaine’s hairline slowly. Kurt laughs then, too. 

“Weren’t we supposed to be taking this slow?” 

“Fuck that noise. Slow is totally overrated.” Blaine rubs the tips of his nose against Kurt’s. 

“I love you.” It’s not a whisper but a declaration. Blaine kisses both of Kurt’s cheeks, eyes wide and happy. 

“I love you, too.” 

~*~ 

He’s in bed an hour later, humming to himself and recalling pleasant details from that morning when his phone buzzes. He’d won rock paper scissors with Kurt, which means that Kurt is out foraging for food. Bonelessly relaxed, Blaine rolls slowly over to grab his phone. 

_Baby, please call me_

Blaine feels his stomach fall when he sees Ryan’s text. He hears Kurt at the door and furtively deletes the message. His smile is genuine when he sees Kurt at the door with a tray of food, a single rose tucked beside a plate of eggs and toast. He rises up so that his back is against the headboard, patting the bed next to him. 

“Kurt,” he says, surveying the food, “this looks delicious. Thank you.” He loves that Kurt leans in automatically to receive his kiss, that things are so easy and comfortable between them. Intimacy like this is so new to Blaine; even with Ryan it had never been like this. From the start, he’d felt guilty and confused, turned on but turned inside out by it. Ryan had never been one for romance or tender moments. Blaine scoots so Kurt can settle next to him, and his heart feels full to bursting with simple joy. 

They eat slowly, laughing and playfully feeding each other bits of fresh fruit and toast. Blaine ignores the vibration of his phone signaling more incoming texts. 

They’re still lying in bed together an hour later. Blaine is on his stomach, feeling comfortably sleepy and a little turned on as Kurt traces patterns and words over his back. 

“Is it wrong that I kind of don’t ever want to leave this bed?” he asks. Kurt lays his palm flat on the small of his back. 

“I don’t, either.” 

Their lips meet gently, and Blaine is just starting to turn in Kurt’s arms when his phone rings. 

“Ignore it,” he whispers against Kurt’s lips, cupping the back of his head to pull him in for another kiss. The phone stops ringing, and he rolls Kurt onto his back, licking into Kurt’s mouth, exploring it while his fingers trace down over Kurt’s exposed chest. The phone rings again, and Kurt sighs, pushing him off. 

“Just answer it. They aren’t going to stop calling, it seems.” Blaine reaches across Kurt to the nightstand, stomach in knots. 

“Oh, it’s Wes!” 

“Oh?” Kurt frowns as he answers the phone. 

“Hey, Wes, what’s up?” Blaine settles back onto the mattress, fluffing a pillow behind his head. Next to him, Kurt is grumbling and shifting, propping his head on an arm and surveying Blaine. 

“Blaine! I’ve been calling. So, what’s up?” Wes sounds relaxed and a little sleepy. 

“Uh...” Blaine looks at Kurt, who has started to walk his fingers slowly up his stomach. “I have something going on right now. Did you need something?” 

“What’s going on?” Blaine bites his lip when Kurt’s fingers skirt one nipple. 

“I- Well… nevermind.” He sticks his tongue out at Kurt, who is smirking. 

“Ohhhh, is Kurt there?” Wes sounds a little more awake, and definitely more interested. 

“Yes.” Blaine frowns at Kurt, who is rising to strip off his shirt, throwing it over the side of the bed. 

“Did I interrupt something sexy? Please tell me I did.” 

“Oh my God, Wes, I am not telling you that. Now, come on, why did you call?” He’s listening with half an ear, watching as Kurt’s strong thighs come to straddle him. His eyes cross when Kurt leans over and starts biting at his ear. 

“Fine, fine. Listen, are you gonna come visit this summer or not? You promised you would.” Kurt’s tongue is doing something incredible to his neck, and Blaine has to work not to pant into the phone. 

“Um, I don’t know. It- it depends on my summer classes and… oh… um, my parents.” 

“Okay, first of all, are you actually having sex while on the phone with me?” 

“God, no. Ew, come on, Wes.” Blaine tries to sound indignant, which doesn’t work that well, as Kurt is stripping his boxers off. Blaine’s eyes rove over his body, lit in the afternoon glow, gleaming and tempting. 

“Oh god, you totally are!” 

“Shut up. I have to go. I’ll call you later.” 

“Wait, what about the visit?” 

Blaine rolls his eyes. “I want to come, I swear. I’ll do my best.” Kurt’s fingers are in his hair now, breath hot against the side of his face as he kisses torturously slow toward Blaine’s mouth. 

“Ugh, fine. Go get laid. I’m calling you again to harass you.” 

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Blaine hasn’t even hung up the phone before he’s turning to catch Kurt’s mouth with his.


	6. Chapter 6

“When are you leaving?”

Kurt raises a brow at Blaine’s tone; it’s forlorn and a little longing. Taking a break from packing, Kurt turns to look at his boyfriend. Blaine is sitting cross-legged on Kurt’s bed with a throw pillow in his lap, playing with the tasseled fringe. He’s not meeting Kurt’s eyes. 

“Blaine, do you not want me to go?” Kurt asks, a little annoyed, but also a little touched. It isn’t like Blaine to be so openly needy; it cracks Kurt’s resolve a little, but at the same time, he misses his dad, his family. He wants, no, _needs_ , to go home for a visit. 

“Oh, god no, please.” Blaine looks seriously offended. “Of course I want you to go. You’ve been missing your dad so much. I’d never… I mean-” 

Kurt laughs, interrupting his stuttering explanation. "I get it.” He sits next to Blaine, smiling as his weight throws the balance of the bed off enough to have Blaine leaning against him. 

Blaine snuggles in, pulling him down onto the bed and rolling over him. “Gosh, you smell so good, Kurt,” he mumbles, burying his face in the curve of Kurt’s neck. He works his way down Kurt’s skin, nipping kisses that are distracting and arousing. 

“Mmm, thanks… No, wait.” Blaine’s mouth works up to Kurt’s cheek. Reluctantly, Kurt pushes Blaine off of him, keeping his hands on Blaine’s chest who is laughing, trying to duck in for more kisses, “Blaine, come on, hold on a second. I want to talk.” 

“Ugh.” Blaine rolls his eyes, a gesture that is adorable and makes Kurt want to run his fingers over the textured landscape of Blaine’s arms. “Why, when we could be kissing?” 

Kurt dodges another attempted kiss, holding firm. “What’s going on? Are you upset that I’m leaving, or what?” Kurt tries not to feel hurt when Blaine’s face shuts down, his body growing cold and moving almost imperceptibly away. 

“Of course I’m going to miss you. That doesn’t mean I don’t want you to go.” A little sulky, Blaine turns onto his stomach, resting his chin on stacked hands. For a while, Kurt lets the tension and silence stretch between them. 

“I just-“ Blaine starts. Kurt watches a blush color Blaine’s cheek. “I wish I missed my family like that. I mean-” Blaine props himself up on his elbows, brows drawn as he thinks about what he wants to say. “I miss them, but, mostly, it’s that they don’t miss me. They don’t really care, and I wish they did. And then I get upset that they don’t, so I work to be sure I don’t miss them. I see you on the phone with your dad and wish I had someone who cared about me in my life, like that.” 

Kurt bites his lip, reaching over to brush a curl behind Blaine’s ear. “You have me.” 

Blaine’s smile now is genuine, the kiss he gives Kurt is tender and considered.“I know.” 

Things are quiet as Kurt focuses on kissing Blaine back, losing himself in the moment -- until he stiffens suddenly and pushes away. “I have an idea!” 

“Mmm, Kurt, kissing.” Blaine’s whine is playful, and Kurt giggles, rolling with Blaine over his bed, tickling and wrestling. For long minutes they enjoy each other -- the physicality of the other’s body, their reactions and touches both experimental and precious. Kurt pushes Blaine over, pinning Blaine to the bed; he can feel the tension and strength in Blaine’s arms. Blaine’s muscles strain against his hold; Kurt leans in to bite at Blaine’s smiling lips, keeping Blaine pinned by the pressure of his hands even as they run over his biceps. 

Blaine lets Kurt explore for a minute before he uses his legs to push and leverage Kurt over. Kurt arches a little into Blaine’s weight, appreciating the way it feels to have Blaine draped heavily on top of him. Something hot and needful clamps down in Kurt’s stomach and chest. They’re both laughing, nipping and kissing and straining into one another. After a bit, Kurt pushes Blaine off of him. 

“No, no, focus, Blaine. Idea- _hnng_.” He stops to turn his head, breathing against Blaine’s curls; Blaine is doing incredible things with his hands and mouth, trailing open-mouth kisses with a hint of teeth over his collarbone, thumbs pressing confidently into the shallows under Kurt’s hip bones. Kurt takes a breath. “No, really, it’s a good one.” 

Gasping for air, Kurt manages to get away and sit up, coming to kneel on the bed. Sitting back on his heels, he talks, sliding his fingers up and under Blaine’s simple shirt. “You should come home with me for a couple days, meet my family. You can come with me this weekend, and I’ll bring you back so you don’t miss any work. ” He doesn’t miss the way Blaine freezes, face becoming impassive and still. 

“You- you want me to meet your family?” His voice is so small and hopeful Kurt has to kick himself for not having thought of it sooner, but it’s his first real relationship; he’s bound to forget important things or make mistakes every now and then, right? He’s never had anything more than fleeting encounters, never had the opportunity to want to introduce his family to someone. 

“Of course I do, silly. I’m sorry I didn’t think of suggesting it earlier -- I mean, unless you think it’s too soon?” Kurt slides his fingers back out of Blaine’s shirt, making sure to catch the pads of them on Blaine’s nipples, smirking a little at the gasp and shiver this elicits. Blaine’s eyes are hooded and dark when he reaches up to grab his hand, hard. 

“No, not too soon.” Blaine’s voice is lower, and Kurt feels it, threading under his skin, through and into all of his bones. He leans forward to whisper a kiss over Blaine’s lips, hands bracketed next to his head while he swings a leg over Blaine’s body. 

Kurt works his tongue into Blaine’s mouth to the rhythm of his pounding heart; everything is desperate love and joy. He slides away, dragging the tip of his tongue over Blaine’s sweet lips before whispering against them, “So come home with me.” 

~*~ 

“Dad?” 

“Hey, Kurt, when’re ya headin’ home?” Burt sounds distracted, voices in the background cueing Kurt in to the fact that his dad is at the shop. Kurt rolls his eyes, willing the nervous butterflies in his stomach to go away. 

“Soon. Ummm... I was wondering…” 

“Spit it out kid. I ain’t got all day.” Burt’s tone is gruff but affectionate, a familiar combination that makes Kurt smile and relax a little. 

“IwaswonderingifIcanbringmyboyfriendhomewithme,” he blurts in one breath. 

“Whoa there, Kurt, what was that?” 

Kurt takes another breath. “Um, well, I was kind of wondering if you’d like to meet, um, Blaine. Just for the weekend.” Realizing he’s biting his lip, Kurt deliberately relaxes, unclenching his fisted fingers. 

“Your boyfriend.” Burt says it flatly; Kurt isn’t sure what that means. 

“Yeah?” 

“That I know nothing about.” He sounds a little incredulous. “Just when did this all happen?” 

“A few months ago?” Kurt rushes to fill the silence that follows his answer. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. Just… listen…” Kurt resists the urge to fidget. Blaine has already gone back to his apartment to pack a bag; Kurt’s infinitely grateful that Blaine isn’t here to realize that he hasn’t even told Burt about him yet. 

“Can we talk about it when I get home? I know I should have told you, and I’m sorry I didn’t. It’s just… I really care about him, and I’d like you to meet him, okay?” Burt’s sigh on the other side of the phone brings with it a flood of memories and images. He knows without asking that Burt has taken his cap off and is scratching his head. Affection floods Kurt’s chest. 

“Okay, buddy. But I’m not real happy to be hearing about you bringing a boyfriend home at the last minute without even telling me you had one. You and I, we’re going to talk when you get here.” 

“Absolutely, I promise. Thank you, Dad.” 

“And just where is this kid gonna sleep?” Burt demands gruffly. 

“Dad,” Kurt huffs, “I’m 20 years old. He’s staying in my room.” 

“Oh, is he now?” Burt’s somehow manages to sound both amused and a little put out, “And just what does that mean?” 

“Oh my god, Dad!” Kurt’s voice rises to a squeak, embarrassment painting his cheeks a hot pink. It’s one thing for his Dad to know what’s going on; it’s another to have to talk to him about it. 

“Well, what else-” 

“Dad. Dad-” Kurt interrupts, “Do we have to have this talk right now? Can’t we just talk about it later and save all the painful topics for one conversation?” He hears his father clear his throat. 

“Yeah, okay. I’m not happy about you keeping secrets, but he can come.” 

“Thank you, Dad, thank you! I promise you’ll love him!” Giddily, Kurt bounces on the balls of his toes, laughter bubbling out of him. 

He says goodbye quickly before gathering his bag and heading for the door to go pick up Blaine. 

~*~ 

“So.” Blaine twitches a little in his seat. The highways flattens before them, Ohio speeding past their windows. Bored, he fiddles with the radio stations. 

“So?” Kurt slaps his hand away from the dials. Blaine’s sigh is long and loud. 

“So dramatic,” Kurt croons, patting Blaine’s knee. “I haven’t given you permission to touch my baby just yet.” 

“Your baby?” Blaine laughs, pulling out his phone, which has been vibrating in his pocket. 

_Blaine, baby, please call me. I miss you, I’m so sorry_

Blaine ignores the message. 

“Who’s that?” Kurt is distracted, looking over his shoulder and switching lanes. Blaine tucks his phone away with a pang of guilt. 

“Nothing important.” He smiles at Kurt. Kurt’s skin looks translucent in the bright of day. 

“Was it Wes again?” 

Blaine swallows. “Ummm, yeah. He’s still asking if I’m going to visit.” 

“New York.” Kurt’s sigh is dreamy. “I might only have gotten to go there once, but it was incredible.” 

Blaine fiddles with the button on his cuff, thinking of Kurt in New York. It’s a beautiful picture. 

“Anyway...” Kurt brushes off his reminiscence. “Are you going to go?” 

“No.” Blaine shakes his head, “I can’t afford it.” 

“But you’ve been working! Why can’t you use that money?” Kurt turns to shoot him a curious look. Blaine shifts his shoulders and looks away. 

“Well, yeah, but. Um. My parents saw my grades from last semester, and they, uhh… they were pretty upset. So they decided I’d quit my job and focus on studying this summer. I have to make what I’ve earned last, you know?” His darted glance at Kurt reveals his boyfriend is frowning, brows knitted in thought. 

“Blaine, I’m not sure I get it. I mean, can’t you just keep your job anyway and not tell them? Or why- wait a minute. I saw your grades last semester. They were excellent.” 

“Well, not excellent enough.” Bitterness rises in this throat, noxious and choking. 

“What do they need, a perfect 4.0 out of you?” Kurt’s voice is doing that thing, that thing where it gets higher pitched the more upset he is. Blaine closes his eyes, exhaling through his nose slowly. 

“Basically.” 

“Okay, so why not have a secret job? It’s not like they could know, right?” 

Blaine shakes his head. Anxiety is rising in his chest, making him feel nauseated and off balance. 

“I can’t risk it.” 

“Risk it?” Kurt turns to examine him more fully. 

“Hey, hey, eyes on the road!” Deflecting, Blaine tries for a funnier tone. Kurt switches his attention back to the highway in front of him. 

“Blaine, what exactly are you risking?” He asks calmly. 

“You know this, Kurt.” Blaine doesn’t want to feel annoyed, but talking about this just upsets him. 

“They’d cut you off over this? Over having a job?” Kurt’s disbelief rings loudly through the car. Blaine shrinks into his seat a little. 

“Do we have to talk about this? I just have to get through college. Then I’ll get a job and I’ll be on my own.” He watches Kurt bite down on his lip. Blaine knows him well enough to know he’s holding back. Tired and defensive, he just slumps lower and turns away to watch farmland roll past his window. He doesn’t want to hear whatever Kurt is thinking. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to think about New York, about what it would be like to experience the rush and the thrill of the city. How nice it would be to spend time with Wes, exploring the city he’s dreamt of for so long. 

“So if you can’t have a job anymore, why am I bringing you home on Sunday?” Kurt’s tone is challenging. Blaine closes his eyes. 

“I gave notice, Kurt. I still have to finish my two weeks so I can keep them as a reference.” He hears the defeat in his voice and shakes his head. 

“I wish you’d talked to me about this.” Kurt’s tone is a little sad. Blaine’s stomach contracts. Guilt and stress tangle inside, spreading through him until it’s buzzing in his head. 

“I- I just.” Blaine shrugs. He doesn’t know how to explain that he wasn’t ready to talk about it, because he isn’t really ready to _think_ about it. 

They ride in relative silence for half an hour before Kurt sighs and takes Blaine’s hand. “I’m sorry.” 

Blaine squeezes Kurt’s fingers and shakes his head. No apologies are necessary. His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he ignores it. 

~*~ 

“So, Blaine.” Burt pauses in the midst of shoveling food into his mouth, ignoring Kurt’s pained expression. “Where are you from?” 

Blaine puts down his fork, wiping his mouth before answering. On the surface, he seems calm, polite and friendly. Kurt knows Blaine well enough by now to know this is his mask. Knowing this, in turn, makes him nervous. He’s been jiggling one leg at triple speed until finally Finn kicks him, demanding to know what the hell he’s so worked up about. Kurt shoots him a dirty look before turning back to Blaine and his father, who have been getting to know each other over roasted chicken and mashed cauliflower. (God bless Carole, Kurt thinks, for keeping up with the heart-healthy foods his father needs.) 

“I’m from Westerville. I went to Dalton Academy.” 

“Remember, Dad? That’s the school we almost had to compete against for Regionals sophomore year.” 

Burt nods. “I do remember. What happened?” 

“The flu.” Blaine grimaces. “Whole team came down with it. I’ll never forget it; it was awful.” He shudders. “But Kurt tells me they won that year, so maybe it was for the best.” Blaine’s smile is sweet, causing Kurt’s cheeks to redden. 

“Oh well,” Kurt says in a lofty tone, holding his water glass daintily. “I’m sure we would have swept the floor with you anyway.” The table breaks out in laughter, and Kurt smiles coyly at Blaine, who blushes and looks away. 

They’ve managed to make it halfway through the meal without incident when Burt asks Blaine about his parents. 

“They still have the house in Westerville, but they travel a lot for my father’s job. They’ve been very generous with me -- they pay for all of my schooling and my housing expenses.” 

Kurt rolls his eyes. Blaine’s parents, as far as he’s concerned, are self-absorbed assholes, and Blaine the victim of their short-sighted selfishness. 

“Yeah,” Kurt jokes, “the only price you have to pay is the death of a dream.” He feels rather than sees Blaine stiffen beside him and has a moment to think _oh, shit_ before Finn speaks. 

“What does that mean?” Finn, of course, isn’t being an asshole like Kurt is. He’s just curious. But still Kurt wants to kick Finn, if only because he can’t kick himself. 

“He means that my parents didn’t want me to study music, so instead I am studying business and economics,” Blaine says quietly, causing Kurt’s heart to plummet dangerously. “I had originally planned to go to NYADA or NYU to study musical education, but my parents wanted me to do something a little more practical.” 

Kurt lays his fork down carefully, examining Blaine. This is the first he’s ever heard of Blaine wanting to go to school in New York. 

There is a long silence, tension-filled and awkward, until Carole gracefully steps in to change the subject. Burt eyes Kurt and the boy next to him carefully for the duration of the meal. For his part, Kurt can hardly chew his food. He feels ten times an asshole, having called Blaine out like that in front of his family. 

Blaine politely offers to help clean up after dinner, then excuses himself to go to bed. Kurt starts to follow until Burt pipes up, “Uh uh, hold up buddy. You and I need to have that talk.” 

“But Dad-” Kurt turns to face his father, hands on his hips. 

“No buts, Kurt. He probably needs time to cool off after you shot your mouth off like that. I want to talk to you about all this.” 

Frustrated, Kurt stands where he is, mid-kitchen, watching both Carole and Finn desert him with dual sympathetic looks. Kurt sits with a huff in the darkened kitchen, waiting as Burt fetches them both a cold glass of water. They don’t speak, letting the silence play out. Burt sits across from Kurt, just staring for a minute, as if drinking him in, until Kurt begins to shift uncomfortably. 

“Sometimes I forget how quickly you grow,” Burt starts, still taking him in. “You’ve been gone a few months, and it’s like you’re a whole new person.” His smile is fleeting. “A whole new person with a boyfriend I’ve never heard of, hey?” 

Kurt traces patterns on the table top with a finger, avoiding his father’s eyes. Beads of condensation slide down his glass to pool on the table. _Where to start_ , he wonders. 

“You’ve heard of Blaine. We’ve been good friends for a long time,” he starts defensively. 

“Oh, you mean when you would talk about the boy who was in trouble but never named any names?” Burt counters. “What I want to know is, how did he go from being the boy who is in trouble, to your boyfriend -- the first you’ve ever mentioned to me, by the way -- without me having any idea? I thought we were okay, you know, talkin’ about stuff like this.” 

Feeling a bit ashamed now, Kurt shrugs, dragging a fingertip through the condensation on his glass. In the background, the air conditioner whirs to life, and the sound of a movie filters through from the family room. He tries to think of a way to tell his father about Blaine without telling him about everything else. Or maybe he can but just doesn’t want to. Kurt closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He knows that, really, some part of him wants to be able to talk to his dad about everything, to confess all. _For what reason, though,_ he wonders. _Absolution?_

“Kurt, come on, buddy. You know we don’t have a lot in common. I want to be sure I’m a part of your life, that you feel like you can come to me if you have problems. I don’t know what’s gone on with you since you went to school, but something has, something more than that Blaine kid, and I really wish you’d tell me what it is so we can figure it out together.” 

Kurt looks down, then up, feeling tears prickle in his eyes, which kind of pisses him off because, well, he doesn’t want to cry. Doesn’t want to be having this conversation at all, really. Only he _does_ ; he has wanted to for over a year, wanted to come to his dad and say, _You were right. I should have waited, but I was so lonely. I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who wanted something special from me, not just something good for themselves. I wanted to wait, but I never thought I’d get any more, and I felt like I was going to disappear, that I was fading away. I just wanted someone to touch me and make me feel alive and present and wanted, but it just made everything worse and I got stuck in this vicious cycle._

Kurt leans over and lays his forehead on the table, speaking into the cool anonymity of the table top. Without looking at his father, afraid to read judgment or shame there, Kurt starts from the beginning, telling his dad about that first night in the club, the alcohol and the kisses. He looks up briefly to see that Burt is listening, brow drawn, circling his glass of water over and over on the tabletop. Taking a deep breath, he makes vague allusions to what had happened in the bathroom after. 

“After that- it just… It seemed so easy. So different. Here, I felt like a pariah all the time. They treated me like I had a secret disease that was catching. But at school, no one treats me like that; if anything, it’s the opposite. Suddenly there were all these boys -- hot, interesting guys who looked at me, who wanted to talk to me or be with me.” 

“You were right.” Kurt sits back up, still avoiding Burt’s eyes, wiping at the tears that have been falling during his confession. “About my self-esteem. About doing stuff and how it was going to do something to me, about how hard it would be to stop once I started. But I didn’t know.” He looks up then, daring a glance at Burt, who is watching him with nothing but love and concern in his eyes. Ghosts trip through the kitchen with him, memories of boys touched fleetingly and without the sort of care his father had cautioned him to exercise. 

“How was I supposed to know that Blaine was out there? That I would meet this-” pausing as his voice breaks, Kurt clears his throat and continues, “...incredible man who would just… _get_ me. Want me. Love me. Want to take care of me and be my best friend. And he is, Dad. He’s my best friend. But he’s so much more, and it was just- there was so much he had to go through to get there.” Kurt rests a heavy head on his hand before propping it on the table top, then loops an arm around his legs. 

“I’ve spent so many months thinking about him, this year. About the situation he’d gotten himself into. Trying to talk myself out of being in love with him, trying to be a good friend and figure out what Blaine needed from me- and now...” He clears his throat again. “Now we’re together, and I really _get_ it. Everything you meant. And he’s still got so much to work through, but I think I do, too. Because I’m still so ashamed of myself.” He stops now, crying in earnest, covering his face with shaking fingers until he feels his father shifting and pulling him into a rough hug. 

“Come on, bud, don’t do that.” Burt is speaking into his ear, holding Kurt tight. He backs away and looks at Kurt earnestly. “Everyone makes mistakes. So you made some. You fucked up. You learned your lesson, or are learning it. And you know what? It’s going to make you a better man. You said you know what I meant now? Good, ‘cause I’ll tell ya, bud, lots of guys don’t learn that lesson for years.” Kurt wipes at his face with shirtsleeves, something he normally would not ever do, but the shirt he’s wearing is bound for the rag bin soon anyway. 

“Now, you say that Blaine’s been through a rough time, and it sounds like his parents aren’t standing in line for parent of the year awards.” Burt carries on, ignoring the tears, which Kurt is so very grateful for. “But your mouth still gets a little too smart for your own good, son, and I think you really hit a nerve with that comment of yours. Now, if he’s really had a rough time, I think you ought to find some way to apologize to him.” 

Kurt nods. They sit in silence for a bit, Burt thinking with both hands cupped around his empty water glass. “You love him, son?” 

Kurt looks up, surprised to feel tears in his eyes again. “Yeah, Dad, I do. I really, really do.” 

Shocking Kurt further, Burt has tears in the corners of his own eyes, as well. His father clears his throat gruffly, standing and putting a hand on Kurt’s shoulder as he passes. 

“I’m glad. I love you, Kurt. Night.” Kurt’s hand is over Burt’s when he squeezes and whispers goodnight back. For a while, he just sits in the kitchen, wondering what exactly he’s going to say to Blaine. He wonders about what Blaine said, about wanting to go to school in New York. It’s strange that it’s never come up, all things considered. That they’ve never even talked about his own acceptance into NYADA, the heartbreaking decision to stay in Ohio to be closer to his father. 

So why has Blaine never talked about this before? He knows why he never said anything: he never wanted to acknowledge what he’d given up, because even though he’ll always know it was the right decision, it still hurts so, so much. 

Kurt traces a finger in random patterns over the smooth surface of the kitchen table, still curled in on himself. New York has always been his dream. He might have shelved it for a while, but inside, tucked away, he’s always known that New York is where he’s headed. Where he is meant to be. But he’s never heard so much as a word about it from Blaine, other than mentioning that Wes wants him to visit. 

Kurt knows Blaine wanted to study musical education. He’s heard about the way Blaine’s parents have withheld approval and love for years, the way Blaine has worked himself inside out to please them. How lonely and longing he is for family. Blaine mentioned his parents threatening not to pay for college if he chose to study anything outside their approved parameters, and although Blaine would never say it, they’ve effectively coerced him into getting a degree in something he hates. 

Blaine, unlike Kurt, is too nice. He’s only ever defended his parents even while explaining what they’ve done. But, still, Kurt is sure Blaine regrets doing what they want, rather than what _he_ wants. No matter what they do or say, though, it seems that Blaine would rather work for their love (something Kurt isn’t sure they’ll ever be able to give Blaine the way he needs or deserves) than chase his own desires. 

_But why Ohio?_ he wonders. Blaine’s parents are obviously wealthy, and Blaine hasn’t ever mentioned them restricting his school of choice before. Kurt doesn’t know Blaine’s parents -- he’s never met them and really has no desire to -- but he doubts they would have objected to a school like Columbia. It’s hard to regret Blaine’s choice, whatever the motivation might have been, knowing he never would have met Blaine were it not for his decision to go to school at OSU. 

Above him, he can hear the creaking of the floors as someone moves around. Kurt thinks of Blaine -- sweet Blaine who loves to cuddle while it rains, who buys him little gifts and surprises him with them at the least expected moments. Who kisses Kurt like he’s air. Carefully, Kurt rinses the used water glasses, biting his lip and stifling the pang of guilt. Sometimes, Kurt knows, his mouth can get too smart and too sharp for his own good. 

With a sigh, Kurt turns, ready to face Blaine.


	7. Chapter 7

When Kurt opens the door to his room, the first thing that hits him is the smell: the wafting layer of nostalgia and home. It smothers his senses and almost makes him yearn to stay.

The second thing he notices is Blaine, who is sitting on the bed with an open book in his lap. Blaine is staring into the corner of the room at the the bright lights Kurt’s dad had installed at his vanity back in high school. They illuminate the corner almost too brightly. 

“Hey.” Kurt hates feeling sheepish or tentative. He’s a little of both, and a lot sorry. The last thing he wants to do is to become another person who pressures Blaine, who makes him feel bad about his choices. He can’t help but be scared his words at dinner have done exactly that. 

“Hi.” Blaine’s voice is perfectly normal, the way he closes the book and smiles at Kurt disarming and alarming, in a way. 

“Blaine?” Confused, Kurt comes to stand by the bed. Blaine checks the time on his phone; he’s being casual in a way Kurt doesn’t understand. 

“It’s still early. Want to watch a movie or something? You have a great collection.” 

“Blaine.” No nonsense now, Kurt sits and stares at his boyfriend, hard. “I know you must be upset with me.” 

“No, no, it’s fine.” Kurt shifts away from the placating hand on his shoulder. It’s ridiculous, but he’s getting upset that Blaine isn’t upset. Or acting upset. 

“Blaine, don’t do this. You don’t need to keep the peace or placate me or any of that.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A sliver of cold shuffles between them as Blaine’s body moves just a little farther away. 

“Yes, you do.” Kurt moves one knee so that it is hooked under a leg, getting more comfortable on the bed and sitting so that he is facing Blaine. “I was an asshole at dinner, and it upset you. Please, can we talk about it?” 

“What is there to talk about?” Blaine looks down at his hands, gripping his cell phone. “You didn’t mean to do anything. It’s fine.” 

Frustrated, Kurt has to resist the urge to pull his hair out. It looks far too fabulous today to consider it, really, but he’s tempted. 

“Blaine, this isn’t going to work if you do that.” Placing a hand on Blaine’s knee, Kurt tries to force his boyfriend to meet his eye. He isn’t successful. 

“Do what?” Blaine says. 

“This… thing. Where you swallow down being upset and try to keep the peace. I want to know when you’re mad or upset. I want to work things out. I want to be a normal couple with balance and conversation and fights.” 

“You… want to fight?” Blaine sounds incredulous, but, thankfully, also a little edgy. 

“No, not necessarily. I don’t want to fight, but I don’t want to avoid problems or things we do that hurt or upset one another. I know that sometimes I can be selfish and self-involved and that I say things. I have a very sharp tongue. I learned to use it to defend myself in high school and sometimes... I stick my foot in my mouth.” 

“So… you want me to get mad at you?” Blaine sounds legitimately confused now. 

“Well, no. But I want you to know that you can. I mean, I don’t want to do things that make you mad. But if I do, I don’t want you to act like you can’t get mad. I’m not Ryan.” Kurt holds his breath, wondering if maybe he’s gone too far with that last part. Watching Blaine’s lips tighten and his eyes shift away, Kurt thinks maybe he has. It’s not the first time he’s had to remind Blaine, and it’s definitely not something he wants to do. Sometimes, Kurt really resents the ghost of Ryan that seems to linger no matter how far he thinks Blaine has come. 

“Touché,” is all Blaine says. With a sigh, Kurt moves to get up. Maybe Blaine needs some space now, if he’s starting to get upset. He stands next to the bed for a long minute. His hands feel too big, and his stance is awkward as he waits for Blaine to speak, but he doesn’t. Finally, Kurt shrugs. 

“Well, when you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here to listen and to apologize again. But, please, I want you to be honest with me when you do, okay?” He waits for Blaine’s hesitant nod before moving to gather toiletries from his travel case. 

~*~ 

Blaine watches as Kurt pads into the corner, sitting at the well-lit vanity. Careful not to get caught, he observes as Kurt goes through his nighttime skincare routine. There’s nothing like Kurt in these moments -- he’s so unapologetically himself. The way he preens a little as he places his head band, the care with which he smoothes product after product over his skin. How much care and attention he pays himself is thrilling and sweet and makes Blaine love him a little more each time he gets to watch. 

He knows he should be mad, but the truth is that he isn’t, not anymore. Kurt’s insistence that he be mad has only endeared him to the whole situation. It’s a little surprising, how easy it is to feel like this is okay. To realize that should something like this happen again, he’ll feel safe expressing it. Even if he doesn’t feel it in his heart yet and knows it will be a long and hard-learned lesson, he heard what Kurt said. It makes a lot of sense. Everything he’s learned by being with Ryan seems backward and wrong. Like everything else, Blaine knows it will just take a while to overcome instincts that have become ingrained in him over the last three years. 

By the time Kurt has finished with his routine, Blaine has given up on being angry. Right now, honestly, he’d rather kiss Kurt than talk. As Kurt twists the top onto what Blaine knows to be the last jar in his regiment, he’s wondering if he can convince Kurt to fool around. Probably not in his father’s house. Blaine feels vaguely ashamed by how turned on by that though he is. Which turns him on more. Which then makes him feel a bit perverted. 

“Hey.” He knows his voice is soft and searching. Kurt snaps off the lights by his vanity. Fresh-scrubbed and moisturized, Kurt looks younger. He’s fluffing his hair after taking out the band and when he comes to sit next to Blaine he’s surprised by Blaine’s sudden kiss. Blaine knows he’s caught Kurt off-guard by the interrogatory squeak that slips from between their lips. 

“Blaine, hold on.” Blaine gets pushed gently away and sighs. Talking right now is not what he wants to do. 

“Kurt, I know I’m supposed to be mad and we’re supposed to talk, but I’m not anymore. You kind of killed it with that impassioned speech and your skin care routine.” Kurt’s single raised eyebrow slays him, always, and right now Blaine wonders how high on the pathetic scale he scores for enjoying it so much. 

“Blaine, it’s-“ 

Blaine dives in, using his strength as leverage to push Kurt down, to straddle and hover over him. Finally, _finally_ , he’s getting to taste that delicious skin that’s been taunting him. He makes his way down the column of Kurt’s pale throat, licking and biting, leaving faint marks he knows Kurt will kill him for. 

“Blaine, ta- talking aside,” Kurt stutters past a shudder, “we’re in my father’s house.” 

“Mmmmhmmm.” He has no idea why it turns him on so much, but, right now, he doesn’t even care. Blaine lays his body over Kurt’s, feeling persuasive and sexy, a combination that’s still heady and new. 

“My dad,” Kurt hisses, but Blaine can feel Kurt’s cock, hard and just right of his where they are slotted together. Experimentally, he rolls his hips, shifting to the side, swallowing Kurt’s tortured groan. 

“Shhhh.” He’s laughing into the give of Kurt’s neck. “You’re going to have to be very, very quiet.” His hands seek out Kurt’s. Their eyes meet, and Blaine carefully laces their fingers together before holding Kurt’s arms captive next to his head. They stare at one another, pausing to breathe each other in. Kurt moves infinitesimally, dragging his lips softly over Blaine’s, over and over. 

“Please,” Blaine whispers. Kurt turns his his head, exposing the delicate curve of his neck. Blaine can feel the warmth of his own breath ghosting over Kurt’s skin when he whispers, “Please, Kurt.” 

Kurt nods, a tiny movement that’s acquiescence and permission and desire. When they kiss now, it’s sloppy, hips roiling erratically. He gives when Kurt pushes, rolling onto his back and taking Kurt with him. Kurt is heavy and delicious over his body. The momentum of persuasion shifts like water between them as Kurt’s mouth works its way down his neck. Blaine gasps, whimpering when Kurt’s warm fingers find their way under his shirt. Blaine lifts his hips, then his shoulders, moving with Kurt as he removes Blaine’s shirt. 

His skin is suddenly cold when Kurt rolls away. 

“Hold on,” Kurt whispers. Blaine shoots him a look from where he’s lying, shivering in the wake of lost contact. He watches Kurt lock the door quietly. Kurt takes his time coming back, eyes roving over Blaine’s body. They seem to take in the way he’s sprawled half-naked, torturously turned on. 

From his vantage point on the bed, Blaine can see Kurt’s cock through his pants; it looks so hard and tempting. Blaine’s mouth is watering, fingers aching to touch. He wants so badly to take Kurt into his mouth, to lose himself in Kurt’s body. To taste and smell Kurt, to feel Kurt around his fingers, throbbing, so hot and incredibly tight. 

Kurt crawls up from the foot of the bed, nosing and nibbling Blaine’s legs through his pants, until he’s nuzzled into the crease of his thigh. Squirming, Blaine gasps as quietly as he can manage. He threads his fingers through Kurt’s hair and pulls hard. Everywhere Kurt’s mouth is, Blaine can feel a pulsing throb course through his body. Blaine bites down on the side of his hand, trying to keep his whimpers from escalating into moans. 

“Blaine, can I?” Over his clothes, Kurt mouths up the length of his erection, leaving moist imprints of his mouth on the fabric. 

Blaine swallows and moans as quietly as he can, whispering into the semi-darkness, “Are- are you sure? You don’t have to, I could-“ 

Kurt’s lips drag over Blaine’s taut skin, navel to neck before cutting him off with a kiss, mouth damp and hot against his. “Blaine, I really, _really_ want to.” Kurt looks into his eyes searchingly. Blaine is turned on and embarrassed and unsure. It’s hard to let go. Ryan hated giving head and had only done it a few times before confessing to Blaine that it grossed him out. Even before things had become really bad, Blaine had never asked or pushed for this. He’s always felt too self-conscious and ashamed, like maybe it was something fundamental about him that had disgusted Ryan so much. But right now Kurt’s eyes are wide on his, hands running warm as they smooth over his stomach and chest. 

“I want to, Blaine, oh my god, I want you in my mouth so bad,” Kurt murmurs against his cheek, kissing frantic and desperate at Blaine’s face and lips and neck. Deep down, Blaine feels something warm unlocking. He trusts Kurt so much; it feels like something tangible heavy in his chest. Right now, he trusts that Kurt wants him, trusts that someone wants to give him pleasure and love in equal measure. It’s something he didn’t think he would ever deserved, much less get. 

Blaine takes a deep breath, pulling himself back from a place where this is all too much. Kurt’s love is precious, a concrete thing rooting and nestling and taking hold inside his chest and heart and lungs, and he wants to cry because it’s something he’s never, ever had before. 

Blaine’s fingers shake when he cups Kurt’s face, lips trembling when he tries to smile.“Okay.” He kisses Kurt deeply, cradling the back of Kurt’s head with his hands. Fear and arousal are cloying and thickening in his limbs. 

“Is it- I- I don’t want to use a condom- I just, I want to taste you so much. Is that-“ Kurt’s face is uncertain for the first time. Blaine thinks about how much he wants. How Kurt will taste when it’s his turn, spilling warm over his tongue. He’s so hard and desperately turned on. Even though he feels unsure, he doesn’t want to deny Kurt. Blaine wants to trust that Kurt wants this just as much as he does. 

“I know you’re clean, I know I am, and I trust you.” Blaine nods. Right now, he doesn’t want anything coming between them. Running his fingers gently through Kurt’s hair, he smiles into Kurt’s next kiss. 

As Kurt moves his way down, Blaine is sure his whispers are seeping into his cells. “I need to be close, I need to smell you.” He drags the tip of his nose along Blaine’s bicep, inhaling where he’s his most basic. “I want to taste you. I want you coming down my throat so that it’s like we’re never not a part of each other.” 

“Oh god, Kurt, me, too.” Blaine presses into Kurt’s tongue, feeling desired in the best sort of way as Kurt licks, wet and sloppy from one nipple to another. 

Gently, Kurt traces his fingers and mouth and body along Blaine’s trembling muscles. He looks up from where he’s been mouthing at waistband of Blaine’s pants; their eyes meet. Blaine’s fingers detach from Kurt’s hair, coming to cup his cheek for a fleeting moment. 

“Are you sure?” Blaine whispers. 

Kurt’s voice is wrecked, broken and deep in a way that makes Blaine want to bite down, pumping and riding and grinding into Kurt’s mouth until he comes. “Yes, please, _please_. Yes.” 

Blaine tilts his head back, looking up at the ceiling and swallowing hard at the first touch of Kurt’s mouth. 

~*~ 

The first taste is slightly bitter and exactly what Kurt’s been craving. He hasn’t said it, but they both know Kurt’s never been with someone like this, never really tasted another boy. Above him, Blaine’s whimpers are breaking what little spell was left of the moment. What felt intimate and romantic is now dirty and so hot -- hot enough to bring Kurt right to the edge. 

Kurt inhales and moans low, exhaling as he sinks over Blaine’s length. His lips meet his fist where it’s wrapped tight around the base of Blaine’s cock, and he works his way back up, licking wide and flat over the ridges of Blaine’s dick, lingering at the tip, tasting his precome. Blaine smells incredible, feels hot and thick and perfect against his tongue. 

Every breath, every movement and twitch of Blaine’s lips, makes him harder, makes Kurt ache, trembling on the precipice of the pleasure he’s drawing from Blaine. Kurt slows a bit, wanting to drag the moment out. He wants to wring every moment of bliss from the night, from Blaine’s incredible body. He licks soft and teasing along Blaine’s shaft before taking him back in. Blaine groans loudly -- loud enough to make Kurt stop, laughing, to shush him. Kurt expands his fingers, feathering them softly over Blaine’s balls and cupping them. He closes his eyes and breathes hard when he feels Blaine throbbing in his mouth, balls drawing up tight and hot. He’s careful not to touch any farther back, always aware of Blaine’s boundaries. 

Above him, Blaine is absolutely writhing, unable to keep whimpers and groans in. Kurt pulls off and mouths urgently along Blaine’s length, climbing from between Blaine’s outspread legs; he shifts so that his hips are near Blaine’s shoulder, using his free hand to cover Blaine’s mouth. 

Blaine gasps against his fingers; his lips are damp and so soft. Kurt feels slightly drunk, head spinning as he swallows, using his other hand to hold Blaine’s shaft as he rubs it against his lips, the tip of his tongue grazing the hot, soft skin. 

Blaine exhales sharply, and then Kurt feels Blaine shifting, clumsily tugging on Kurt’s pajama pants. Kurt’s drags his teeth along Blaine’s hip; he’s breathing fast, heart pounding, just on the fine edge of what’s left of his control. Still, he tries to keep the hand on Blaine’s erection firm and sure, pumping and squeezing, pausing every now and then to thumb just under the ridge of his cockhead. 

Blaine’s movements are frantic as he pulls Kurt’s pants down just far enough to get Kurt’s cock in his hand before sucking two of Kurt’s fingers into the wet warmth of his mouth. Blaine’s only managed hree strokes before Kurt comes all over his hand and stomach, shocked and groaning as low as he can. 

Kurt is still trembling, aftershocks of pleasure twitching through his muscles, when he sinks his mouth back over Blaine, going down farther than he has, testing his gag reflex. He feels it when Blaine tugs at his hair, trying to pull him off, but Kurt only pulls back a bit, wanting to taste him, groaning and swallowing when Blaine pulses, flooding his mouth slippery and bitter. 

When he pulls off, it’s with a sigh and a full body tremor that courses from his feet to his fingers and through his ears. For long moments they lie, touching where they are connected: Kurt’s forehead against Blaine’s thigh, Blaine’s hand warm and heavy on Kurt’s hip. 

~*~ 

At some point, Kurt begins to stir. Blaine would, too, were he not boneless with awe and comfort and contentment. Every moment of intimacy with Kurt is a revelation. A long time ago, he’d enjoyed learning how to do this, somehow derived small moments of pleasure with Ryan, until they became a chore. Until they became a way to deflect and protect himself from feeling violated and used, voiceless and without choices. 

For a long time, Blaine had wondered if he’d ever enjoy sex again, if he’d ever want to be a part of a sexual relationship, if he’d have it in him to give and to receive and to want. And, god, with Kurt, he _does_. 

Next to him, Kurt is breathing deep and steady, hand coming up to stroke Blaine’s hip reverently, moving up to drag his fingertips over Blaine’s stomach. 

“Oh!” Kurt stops and props himself up when his fingers slide through the come on Blaine’s stomach. Blaine sits up a little, smiling into the kiss they share. Kurt’s thumb rubs a little, smearing the come. It’s a sexy feeling, like Kurt is marking him somehow, but it’s also getting a little sticky. Blaine kisses Kurt’s forehead gently, then rolls away; he’s very aware of his nudity, of Kurt’s eyes tracking his body as he walks away. 

Blaine fumbles through the cupboards in the bathroom for a few minutes, eyes on the mirror where he can see Kurt reflected. Most of the mess ended up on him; he dampens a washcloth and cleans himself up and when he thinks of Kurt coming all over him, he feels his cock twitch hard. 

“Here.” Blaine sits carefully next to Kurt, who is still fully dressed except for where his pants are tucked behind his balls. His hair is a delicious wreck, eyes heavy and sated. Blaine feels a little exposed, naked when Kurt is still so covered, but in a way that sends a small thrill through his spine. Blaine undresses Kurt, tenderly cleaning off what little come clung to him. They stare at each other, breathing in the thickened air as Blaine sweeps the cloth over Kurt’s beautiful skin. Blaine slides Kurt’s shirt off so that he’s naked as well; he takes a moment to look, eyes sweeping over Kurt’s fine skin. Kurt’s hand is steady when it comes up to brush over his cheekbone. Blaine can’t help but nuzzle into the touch before stretching out, coming to rest on top of Kurt, who is warm and soft and sleepy-eyed. 

*~* 

Hours later, Kurt watches in the dim moonlight as Blaine sleeps. He recalls the laughter, the freedom in Blaine’s actions with him -- the new way in which Blaine had let go and been in the moment with him. He remembers Blaine’s words at the dinner table and wonders, again, about New York. 

This is new for them both, being in a relationship like theirs. For Blaine, it has to be an adjustment, Kurt understands. Years with Ryan and his relationship with his parents have taught Blaine to repress his own desires, to bend and mold himself around what other people want or expect from him. Kurt isn’t naive enough to think that’s going to change just because it’s no longer necessary. They’ll have to learn; he’ll have to be careful to be sure that Blaine isn’t changing himself for Kurt without even realizing. 

He wonders, as his eyes flutter shut, fingertips soft at the nape of Blaine’s neck where he’s warm and downy-haired, if Blaine will ever bring it up on his own. Blaine’s voice when he mentioned New York was full of the sort of longing Kurt is familiar with. It sounded like the aching Kurt feels every time he recalls his own dreams, set aside and put on hold. Kurt isn’t sure why Blaine didn’t go to New York; he wonders if he’ll ever feel ready to tell Kurt what he wants more than anything. 

~*~ 

When Blaine wakes the next morning, it’s with a stiff neck and cold feet -- literal cold feet. Kurt is wrapped warmly in the blankets; Blaine finds himself with the corner of one sheet covering him. Shivering, he pulls and tugs the blankets from around Kurt, snuggling in and under the warmth trapped around Kurt's body. 

They're skin to skin, watery sunlight weaving through drawn curtains as Blaine looks, really _looks_ at Kurt, taking him in. Kurt has a beautiful body, lean and toned and very masculine. Kurt dresses to emphasize his slim, long limbs; often it is hard to see the strength and muscle behind the illusion he displays. Naked, Kurt's body is art. 

Blaine burrows in closer, fingers draping over the turn of Kurt's hip. Closing his eyes, Blaine ignores Kurt stirring. His heart wants to feel happy, but somewhere in the pit of his stomach is a nervous ache. 

He thinks back to the day when he'd frozen with Kurt's hands on his ass, the way fear and acceptance had coursed through him. If Kurt hadn't stopped, Blaine knows he wouldn't have been able to stop him. Because it still feels natural to keep going, to keep moving through resignation and fear. To treat his body like an object to be used and handled according to the whims and desires of another person. Blaine wonders how long the muscle memory of Ryan's body will be imprinted upon his. 

Biting his lip, Blaine rolls over. Sweet warmth moves through him as Kurt's arms come around him automatically, pulling him closer. But then a flash of something -- resentment maybe -- burns quicksilver under his skin as Kurt's warm hands begin to move over him. Blaine thinks back to the night before, the argument he'd abandoned. It worries him how suddenly his moods change in the face of Kurt's love. Anger that fades at the simplest hint that it's okay to be angry, lust that builds until he can't bring himself to hold back. With Kurt, he is more free and confident than he ever has been before. Last night, letting go of his resentment and anger had felt natural; he didn't even have to try. 

Only now he's remembering Kurt's words at dinner. They weigh on him. Juxtaposed with the temptation of Kurt's fingers, trailing slowly around his belly button, it’s like he’s being led in two directions. Blaine wants so much, but feels so much more; it's hard to know which way is the right way to turn. Resentment shimmers for a moment; his chest is tight with it, and his skin seems to itch, pulling away from Kurt's touch. 

Now that he's more awake, it's easier to recognize that he's still a little mad at Kurt, but the rest of his body, a body so often used carelessly and roughly in the past, is responding to this moment. To Kurt's kisses along his shoulder, to the unspoken question of lips and teeth along his ear. Thinking back to the night he'd frozen, and how carefully Kurt had guided him, how aware and respectful he always was of any boundaries they found along the way, Blaine finds he can't say no now. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to be angry with Kurt, not when feeling loved and cared for feels so much better. 

Pressing his lips together, Blaine rolls over into Kurt's waiting arms, meeting his kiss with closed eyes and a tight heart.


	8. Chapter 8

“I wish you didn’t have to work tomorrow.” Kurt flips the visor down, squinting into the setting sun. Blaine looks up from where he’s been fiddling with his phone settings, half shrugging.

“Yeah, but you should spend some time with your family without me. Catch up. Do family things.” Blaine wonders if the pang of envy he feels whenever he pictures a Hummel-Hudson game night is healthy. Or normal. Kurt pulls into a parking spot in front of Blaine’s apartment, fingers moving slowly to take the keys from the ignition. 

“I’m going to miss you.” Kurt’s hands are gripping the steering wheel, voice cracking just a bit. Blaine swallows a lump in his throat, feeling silly. Two weeks isn’t the end of the world. 

“Me too,” he whispers, taking Kurt’s hand from the wheel and lacing their fingers together. Kurt offers him a smile; Blaine leans in to kiss him softly, soothingly. When Kurt’s arms come up around him it’s awkward but somehow comforting. 

“Call me when you get home, okay?” Blaine pulls back a bit, letting Kurt linger over the next kiss, enjoying the feeling of Kurt’s fingers soft on his cheek. He pulls away a bit more, fumbling with the door handle. 

“Please call me when you get home, so I know you made it?” he asks again. 

Kurt nods. “I’d call you anyway, to say goodnight.” 

They smile at each other through the open door. Blaine doesn’t think he’s spent a night away from Kurt for the majority of the summer. His bed is going to feel so empty. With a last, half-hearted little wave, he closes the door gently and backs away from the car. He tries to smile as Kurt pulls out slowly, waving again when the car turns, fingers curling back into his palm. Blaine turns listlessly toward his building. At least he’s working the next two weeks-- that should help pass the time until Kurt gets back. 

~*~ 

He’s lying in bed two hours later, daydreaming about Kurt; his fingers and his cool touch. Kurt’s sweet lips and the way his breath comes short when Blaine touches the side of his neck. When his phone rings, he answers still half in a daydream, 

“Hey.” He’s expecting Kurt, and is taken by surprise when he hears Ryan’s voice on the other line. 

“Blaine, god, thank you for finally answering.” Blaine sits up, surprised and shocked, skin running cold. 

“Ryan, I-“ His stomach feels like lead. He doesn’t want to be outright rude, but he can’t think of a polite way to say, _I thought you were Kurt and You’re the last person on earth I want to talk to right now._

“Blaine, baby, I miss you.” Ryan’s tone is wheedling. Blaine’s insides twist at the use of the endearment. A flash of anger surprises him. 

“Don’t call me baby, Ryan. I’m not yours anymore, remember?” He’s a little shocked by his own tone, hard and cold. Shocked and kind of proud of himself. 

“Blaine--” Ryan’s voice is plaintive and Blaine tamps down on the surge of guilt that still feels like instinct. 

“Ryan, I’m sorry.” He takes a fortifying breath, “I only answered because I didn’t check the call ID first and I thought you were someone else. I don’t want to talk to you. We’ve broken up. It’s over. Please don’t call again.” He doesn’t wait to hear more from Ryan. Instead he hangs up, burying the phone under his pillows and swallowing his rising nausea. 

His skin is crawling. Hearing Ryan’s voice is like being tossed into the past, into hallways crowded with memories like old ghosts. Of who he used to be. Of what he let Ryan do to him, let himself become. It’s a sickening reminder; a sound he’s intimately acquainted with. The tones of Ryan’s voice clang too loud inside his head, a cacophony of voices that haven’t had time to fade, like sepia toned picture memories collecting dust. Because if he lets himself, Blaine can too easily hear Ryan: timbers of anger and frustration, sometimes surprisingly young laughter, or worst of all, the way it became broken and thready and manipulating when he would turn and use and break apart Blaine’s own body. 

The phone rings again, vibrating under his pillow. Blaine shakes himself before checking the caller ID, something he wishes he would have done in the first place. Kurt’s name flashes across his screen. After a somewhat cleansing breath, he shakes off lingering tremors and sadness. 

“Hi!” His cheerful greeting is genuine, his longing for Kurt completely authentic. No one makes Blaine feel safe and so right in his own skin as Kurt does. 

“Mm, hi yourself.” Kurt’s voice is quiet and intimate. Blaine presses the phone closer to his ear, wanting to soak up the warm resonance of Kurt’s voice. “What are you doing?” 

“Missing you,” Blaine smiles at his own whispered confession. “Laying in bed and thinking about you.” He closes his eyes, ignoring the pang of guilt. He doesn’t need to tell Kurt something that would just upset him. He’s pretty sure he can handle Ryan on his own, that he’ll just have to be more vigilant about answering the phone and checking the caller ID first. 

He’d rather spend this time enjoying Kurt’s company and wit; the way listening to Kurt reminds Blaine of everything Kurt has showed him and taught him in these past months. Kurt’s laugh uncurls like warm mist in Blaine’s tight stomach, loosening and relaxing him. He listens as Kurt describes dinner with his family, laughing along when he recounts a particularly funny thing Finn did. Blaine opens his eyes, blindly staring into his dark room, letting Kurt wash over him in warm waves. 

By the time they’ve whispered good night, deep into each other’s ears and hearts, Blaine has forgotten all about Ryan. Instead, he’s remembering the soft hollows of Kurt’s elbows; the way his collarbone, damp and defined, feels against his lips. How Kurt moves, jerking and unsure but so, so sure, against his body. Blaine lays the phone on the bed next to him, too hot from being held so close and tightly, letting his free hand wander. Touching and lighting against his stomach and hipbones and finally under his pants where he’s half hard and aching for Kurt’s mouth. 

Blaine’s movements are tortuously restrained, constructed of new memories and fantasies. He lets himself take time, wallowing in the picture of Kurt’s skin, morning lit and paper thin under his own rougher fingers. Blaine doesn’t let himself think that maybe he’s using these memories to erase old ones that remain hidden under this new second skin. Instead, he makes the memory of Kurt brighter, thinks of the way Kurt moves over him like molasses, slow and sweet, leaving nothing untouched. And when Blaine finally comes, it’s in near silence, his skin and toes and eyes and fingers throbbing and sparking, heart leaning into the empty space that is the person he most longs for. 

~*~ 

Blaine comes home from work a few days later to five missed calls and nine text messages from Ryan. Feeling a little like he’d opened Pandora’s Box without even realizing it by answering that call, Blaine deletes the messages without listening or reading them. He remembers all too clearly how carried away Ryan can get in an effort to get ahold of him. He used to do it all the time when they were dating. It’s just another Ryan detail Blaine hasn’t been able to disremember. After the last text has been deleted, Blaine tosses his phone onto the kitchen counter with a careless rattle. Jeff is perched on their futon, playing video games. Blaine drops down next to him, exhaling hard and long. 

“Sup?” Jeff doesn’t miss a beat, annihilating the zombie on his screen. Blaine pulls his feet up under him, shivering. His roommates love to turn up the air conditioning, but he’s always cold. Jeff is mashing at his controller with unbridled violence, shaking the futon with his exertions. 

“Something on your mind? YES. TAKE IT. WHO’S YOUR DADDY, BITCH?” Jeff throws his remote down victoriously, then roots around on the floor for his soda before turning to Blaine. 

“Wanna talk or play?” He holds the second controller out, wiggling it a little. Smiling, Blaine takes it, settling in to kick Jeff’s ass. He does not want to talk about it. 

~*~ 

By mid afternoon the next day, Blaine has resorted to turning his phone off. He’s been studying in his room, blasting music and enjoying having the apartment to himself. No roommates loudly as he wants to, and eat as much of his secret stash of junk food as he likes. 

He’d been at it for 10 minutes when the first call had come. Ignoring it, Blaine had ripped open a bag of BBQ chips and proceeded to get crumbs all over his bedspread while eating them and thumbing through his text book. 

Half an hour later, he’d chocked up three missed calls. Putting away the chips, he’d perfunctorily swiped crumbs away, wiped the remaining grease off of his fingers, and ripped open a Snickers bar, then started reading his notes. 

An hour after that he thought he might throw up. Either from the stress of the near constant vibration of his phone signaling calls and texts from Ryan, or from the three cans of Coke he’d downed after his Snickers bar. 

Rubbing his stomach, Blaine vaguely wonders if he should eat something healthy when his phone rings yet again. Fed up, half sick, and running late for his shift, Blaine turns his phone off in frustration and buries it in his sock drawer. 

By the time he is swinging into work he’s sure he is going to throw up. It’s easier to blame it on the apple he’d crunched down in the car on the way to work, but he suspects it might have to do with the realization he’d left his phone off and at home. Kurt always texts in the evenings, especially when Blaine is at work and bored. He makes witty and scathing commentary about things he’s watching on TV, something Finn’s said, upcoming fashion trends. Their repartee always helps Blaine get through his shifts with a smile on his face. Every night, Kurt’s chatter helps him when he has to go back home to an empty bed with a Kurt shaped hole in it. He thinks about Kurt, texting and receiving no answer, waiting and waiting for a reply that won’t be coming. Guilt sits like lead in his stomach, anxiety buzzing through his fingers. Blaine hopes his silence won’t worry Kurt too much. He throws up in the small employee bathroom. 

~*~ 

Four days later he makes the mistake of reading some of the texts, which have only increased in frequency. 

_Please answer_

Baby I miss you so much 

Why are you being like this? 

I just want to talk. Pls call 

Pls call asap. It’s important 

Blaine bites his lip, reading and deleting them. His fingers shake as they maneuver the touchscreen of his phone. It would probably be best to delete Ryan as a contact. It feels final in a way that sits cold in his chest. He wants to be free from Ryan, but he doesn’t want to be a dick about it. Not that Ryan would know, or that he deserves any sort of courtesy from Blaine. 

But Blaine is also not naive enough to think that deleting Ryan as a contact will solve his problem. Ryan doesn’t seem to understand that Blaine wants nothing to do with him anymore-- at least with his number programmed, Blaine knows when Ryan is calling. 

It’s the last text from Ryan really gives him pause. Blaine debates for a minute before deleting it. He hopes that everyone in Ryan’s family is okay, that there’s not really anything serious going on. Ryan’s parents had never been anything but kind and welcoming; even if they were different and more colorful than Blaine was maybe used too, they’d cared. Ryan’s family is probably the only thing he’ll ever really miss or wish he could have retained from their relationship. 

Blaine forces himself to stop the what if game, chastising himself about moving on, when his phone vibrates again. He has to stifle the urge to throw the phone. What will it take to get Ryan to leave him alone? 

“What?” He snaps. His thumb hurts a bit from how hard he jammed it over the call answer button. 

“Wow.” Ryan sounds taken aback and Blaine has to remind himself firmly that he does not have to feel guilty. He doesn’t owe Ryan anything after what Ryan has done to him. 

“Ryan. Stop calling me. Stop texting. It’s over.” 

Ryan exhales and Blaine closes his eyes at the familiar sound. Fear and resignation want to sinew through him. The instinct to fix and protect is just that. Instinct, not necessity. Blaine breathes through his nose and pushes old feelings and habits away and down, trying to focus on where he is. What he wants. How much he needs to free himself from Ryan at all costs. 

“Blaine,” Ryan’s soft voice has less effect on him than it would have. He reminds himself to stay strong. 

“Ryan. We broke up. It’s over. Please, please leave me alone.” He’s horrified to hear what sound like sniffles. _Oh god,_ he thinks, _he’s crying._ The guilt he’s barely been holding at bay starts to crack through him in cold waves. Desperate and unsure, Blaine hangs up, not able to take any more. His hands are over his eyes and his breath is ragged when he sits on the side of the bed. 

_It’s over. He’s not in my life any more. I don’t have to let him be._

Blaine curls up on his bed, pulling his comforter over his head. He breathes in with increasing calm to the mantra, it’s over. His exhales, once shaky, beginning to smooth out to the chant, _I’m free of him._

It’s over. I’m free of him. It’s over. 

~*~ 

At some point, Blaine falls asleep. He’s woken by Jeff pounding on his door and shouting something about a sandwich and a shift. Disoriented, Blaine scratches his head and tries to clear his eyes. He peers at the clock- for a full thirty seconds the numbers register as gibberish before he realizes that he’s over forty five minutes late for his shift at work. Scrambling, Blaine kicks off his covers, tripping and giving himself wicked rug burn on his knee. He fishes his phone out from the depths of his bed as he searches one handed for his work shirt. 

It’s a bit of a letdown, after his frantic rush to get ready, to be told he doesn’t need to come in after all. Still frazzled and half dressed, Blaine drops down on his bed, trying to ease the heart that’s pounding in his chest. After tonight’s shift, he’d only had one more to cover before his two weeks were over. His boss, who was a great guy anyway, told Blaine not to worry about coming in for that one either; they’d already replaced him anyway. He’d thanked Blaine for doing a great job before hanging up. 

With a pang, Blaine thinks about the hours he’ll have to fill in the next day and a half until Kurt will finally be home. Aside from the fact that it staved off boredom, he’d actually liked his job. He’d worked with fun people and it had felt nice to make his own money. His parents, while largely absent and generally cold towards him, have always provided him with more than enough money. Even so, it never feels like his. Instead, spending his parent’s money has always felt like a debt owed and a tethering collar. 

So long as his parents pay for everything, he is beholden to honor the choices they make for him. He’d liked the freedom of making his own money because it also meant the freedom to chose how he could spend his money. With his own money, Blaine could have gone to New York to visit Wes. Without the rest of the summer to earn it, Blaine has to pay for things his parents don’t approve of (like his Lit credits) with what he has. Blaine doesn’t want to be ungrateful. His parents have provided him with a credit card and a generous limit. All he has to do is show them his receipts. 

Blaine changes back into his t-shirt and jeans slowly, wondering if he can coerce Kurt into abandoning some family time for him. He misses Kurt- his smell and his laugh and the way Kurt seems to fill every room he enters with light and intensity. But Kurt is coming home in a few days and it would be rather rude to monopolize his time just because he is feeling needy. He gets Kurt the whole school year. The least he can do is to let Kurt’s family enjoy him for a couple of weeks. 

Feeling restless and a bit useless, he wanders into the common room. His roommates are watching some sort of violent movie on the TV; Blaine catches the sounds of tortured screams and what appears to be a chainsaw before retreating. Gory slasher films are not his thing. For a few minutes he lingers at his desk, pushing one book over a bit, re-angling the framed photo of Kurt on his shelf. He feels bored and adrift. Blaine knows he isn’t good with unstructured time. 

Laying down, he tries to pick up the novel he’s been reading for fun, but finds that he isn’t following the story at all. Again he debates calling Kurt. He doesn’t want to come off as needy and desperate. What he is, though, is lonely. He thinks back to that night, earlier in the week, when he’d left his phone at home. Worrying himself literally sick, Blaine had been a wreck by the time is work shift had ended. He was positive he would be coming home to increasingly angry or distressed texts and calls from Kurt. Instead he’d had two. 

Oh my goodness. Carole broke out the acid wash denim. 

And half an hour later. 

_You must be busy. Call me when you get home from work. XOXO_

That was it. No accusations. No anger. Just understanding. 

Blaine wonders sometimes if Kurt is extra special, or if he himself is really that damaged. A dangerous line of thought for him; introspection usually leads him down paths that loop and meander in increasingly distressing directions. Left to himself to stew, Blaine almost always ends up paralyzed by fear and self recrimination, re-living moments with Ryan and in his past, over and over. 

Which is the absolute last thing he wants to be doing right now. He has an extra couple of hours on his hands. He should suck it up and go watch the movie with his roommates. He could read. He could-- 

His phone vibrates with an incoming call. Seeing Ryan’s name flash across the screen, Blaine flips onto his stomach, rejects the call, and takes a deep breath. Instead of wallowing or getting frustrated, he just searches his recent calls and calls Kurt instead. It goes straight to voicemail. 

“Hey you.” Blaine knows he sounds sad, but swallows and keeps going, “So I’ve been liberated from my last shifts at work and have nothing to do but miss you. Call me when you can, I love you so much.” 

Antsy and energized, Blaine flips back onto his back. His thoughts about Kurt have taken a more sexy turn; Blaine’s debating taking a shower so he can jerk off without the threat of interruption when the phone rings again. He grabs for it happily, feeling his stomach fall when he sees it’s a text from Ryan. 

_I get it. It’s over. I have ur stuff. U have mine. Can we exchange._

Blaine reads the text, then again. He does have a box with some of Ryan’s old things in it. A ratty sweatshirt he’d stolen and always worn when he was particularly cold. Some CDs, a couple of books. Nothing special. He’s been tempted over the months to throw them away, but his guilty conscience wouldn’t let him trash things that weren’t his. He doesn’t care what Ryan has of his, but thinks it might be good to get rid of Ryan’s stuff. Remove the last vestiges of Ryan from his life. A grand symbolic gesture that might help him shut the door on what was. 

He absolutely does not want to see Ryan though. 

_Fine_ He texts back. _Let me know when u’ll be in town next. U can come pick up._

Blaine’s fingers are cold when he texts. He’ll have to remember to ask Jeff if he’s okay with making the exchange for him. He’s sure it won’t be a problem. Blaine drops his phone, ignoring the next text that comes in, focusing on his breathing instead. Soon he slips into sleep. 

~*~ 

He wakes up to the sound of his phone, yet again. He’s muzzy with sleep and not really awake when he reads Kurt’s name on the screen. 

“Hmmm. Hi baby,” he slurs. Kurt’s laugh is soft and comforting over the line. 

“Caught you asleep huh?” 

“Mmmmhhhmmm.” Blaine struggles to stay awake; of their own volition his eyes slip shut. Kurt is saying something, his voice like home and warmth. 

“What, whazit?” He wakes up enough to know Kurt’s asked a question. 

“Never mind, you’re obviously not awake. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” 

Blaine sinks gratefully back into his pillows. “I love you,” he whispers, reveling in the quiet reply, sliding seamlessly back into sleep. 


	9. Chapter 9

Blaine wakes up with his phone clutched in his hand. Clearing his throat, he stretches stiff muscles and unwinds his fingers. They’re sore from holding onto the phone so tightly. Blaine frowns, then grimaces. He’d fallen asleep in jeans without brushing his teeth. His mouth feels like a cesspool, his muscles cramped and aching from sleeping in a strange position. He tries to remember what Kurt had called about but can’t recall much more than saying goodnight.

The shower helps some, clears cobwebs from his sleep addled brain. By the time he’s shaved and brushed and lathered and dressed, he feels awake and completely refreshed. Kurt is coming home tomorrow; Blaine’s stomach twists in happy anticipation when he remembers. Popping a bagel into the crappy toaster Jeff’s mom gave them, Blaine rummages through the fridge. He looks over his shoulder at the kitchen clock, wondering if 10 a.m. is too early for pop. Shrugging, he snags a Coke before grabbing a plate for his bagel. He’s a grown-up now, damn it. He’ll drink Coke whenever he wants. 

Riding his self-righteous high, Blaine sits down in the silence of his apartment and enjoys his small breakfast. He can hear Nick snoring in the other room. Jeff is already gone to work, he knows. Nick will be up soon enough, stumbling into stuff and parking himself on the couch to watch sports news until he has to go to class. Blaine hums a bit, layering cream cheese on his bagel. The predictability and stability of his life is fucking awesome sometimes. 

He’s mostly done with his breakfast, humming between bites and daydreaming about taking Kurt to the zoo or a movie or something when he hears the buzzer. Blaine brushes the crumbs from his fingers, loping toward the answer box before the buzzing can wake Nick up. He depresses the button cheerfully. 

“Hello!” 

“Blaine?” 

His stomach drops precipitously when he hears Ryan’s voice, tinny and broken through the speaker. Blaine can literally feel all the blood draining from his head. It’s one of those strange moments when everything is real but somehow surreal; his body is cold and hot and his fingers tingle in some sort of bloodless way. He is not prepared for this -- he’d thought Ryan would at least call first, that he’d have time to talk to Jeff and get ready for this. Blaine sucks in one breath, then another, then a third before he can get his voice together. His brain seems to have left him altogether; he’s not even sure he can string words into some sort of coherent order. 

“What are you doing here?” Blaine’s voice cracks and he has to clear it. Ryan has always been exceptional at reading his weaknesses and using them to twist Blaine around. Blaine bites down hard on a knuckle, trying to hold himself together, to gather his strength. Ryan doesn’t have to have a hold over him. 

_It’s over. He’s not in my life._

Ryan’s voice carries through the small speaker. “I have your stuff. I texted you- listen, can I just come up? This is dumb, and this fucking box is heavy.” 

_No_. Blaine shakes his head even though he knows Ryan can’t see him. He’s not sure how Ryan knows where he lives, but there is no way he’s letting him in. He can do this, he knows. Bring this thing, this moment and his relationship -- that the whole ugly mess that was his life for years -- to a close. Full stop. Blaine brushes a hand over his shirt, drawing himself up and in and steeling himself. 

“I’ll be down in a minute.” 

Blaine takes a minute -- well, maybe five -- to get himself together. He pulls on a sweatshirt despite the heat outside. Blaine wonders if it’s dumb, but it feels sheltering. He wants as many layers as he can get between his body and Ryan’s. 

Grabbing the box with Ryan’s possessions, Blaine moves quietly through the apartment. The last thing he needs now is for Nick to wake up and ask what’s going on. Nick’s a lot more confrontational than Jeff, and Blaine just wants this to be over. He doesn’t need it to become an altercation. The sooner he can get Ryan out of there, the better. 

Each step down toward the parking lot, Blaine’s stomach twists a little tighter. His head feels too light and his feet too heavy, and, in his bones, panic is settling fluttering wings. 

_Oh god, oh god, oh god._

Ryan is outside, just on the other side of the door. He’s leaning against his car. Blaine still knows him well enough to know he’s dressed nicely for this. His car is washed. He’s wearing the green shirt Blaine had once told him complimented his eyes. 

Blaine wants to throw up. 

Instead, he plasters a smile on his face and takes a deep breath. Whatever “heavy” box Ryan was claiming to be holding is nowhere in sight. Blaine is glad he didn’t let Ryan up. 

“Ryan.” Blaine strives to keep his voice neutral, strives for or something other than the shaky weakness ripping through his body.The heavy outside door of the apartment closes with a too-loud bang. Blaine jerks back automatically when Ryan moves in for a hug, almost tripping over the curb. 

“No-“ He cuts himself off when he spots a Black Navigator pulling into the parking lot. 

_Oh holy shit._

Blaine closes his eyes, then opens them. All the breath leaves his lungs. 

_This cannot be happening._

Unsure what to do with his hands, Blaine puts down the box he’s carrying. His fingers tangle together, then one is running nervously through his hair before he crosses his arms, digging his fingers deep into his sides. There’s a long pause before Kurt opens the door. Kurt’s face is unreadable through the windshield. 

“Oh my god, seriously?” Ryan says. “Him again?” 

Kurt’s stepping out and down. He looks incredible in tight dark wash skinnies and a short-sleeved graphic tee. His lightweight scarf is the color of rain and looks like it would be heaven to burrow into. Blaine would be infinitely happy to linger there, were he not _freaking the fuck out_ right now. Why is Kurt here? Why is Ryan here? What the fuck is happening, and why is it happening to him? 

“You’re home early.” Blaine shuts his mouth quickly. That is not what he meant to say. There’s no way for a person in his situation to say something like that and not sound guilty, even when they so categorically _aren’t._

“Yeah.” Kurt’s tone is light, and his smile seems genuine when he loops around the car, reaching for Blaine’s hand. He leans in to kiss Blaine’s cheek, and Blaine catches a whiff of cucumbers and something spicy. It’s very _Kurt_. His fingers are smooth and steady, tangling surely with Blaine’s. “I told you last night when I called that I was coming home early.” He’s looking right into Blaine’s eyes when he speaks. “You were probably too sleepy to remember.” 

Blaine nods; Kurt’s still holding his gaze and he has a second to think, _Oh shit, I am so fucked_ , before Kurt smiles brightly and turns to Ryan. 

“And what brings you along?” Blaine recognizes the tone; it’s sugar-coated venom and steel. 

Ryan smirks. “That’s between Blaine and me. We talked about it on the phone.” Ryan winks at Blaine as if they’re conspirators. 

Not for the first time, Blaine feels anger churning slowly, burning into his arms and constricting his chest. Only right now it doesn’t feel bad. There are no tethering ribbons of guilt threading through. 

“Ryan wanted to drop off some of my stuff, and I wanted to finally get rid of this box of his stuff.” Blaine toes the discarded box on the pavement. The strength and undisguised anger in his voice feels good. Feels liberating. 

Blaine’s pretty sure he’d feel fucking _fantastic_ if it weren’t for Kurt’s hand gripping his vise-tight. Despite the united front Kurt is putting on for Ryan, Blaine can feel the waves of anger and betrayal emanating from his boyfriend. 

“Well, then...” Kurt uses the side of his shoe to nudge the box over to Ryan’s feet. “Where’s Blaine’s stuff? We’re busy. I’m sure you are, too. You look like you’ve got places to go. And look, you’ve made some sort of effort to dress up. What is that look called?” Kurt pretends to give Ryan a once-over, tilting his head, all bitch face and perfect posture. “Hobo-chic?” 

Blaine feels an inappropriate urge to laugh; Ryan’s face seems caught somewhere between annoyed and surprised. Blaine is pretty sure that whatever Ryan had envisioned happening wasn’t anything close to this. He looks to Blaine like he waiting for him to say something -- to defend him, maybe? Blaine looks away; he can feel the nervous tension in his clenched jaw. When he looks back, he sees Ryan’s expression has darkened. He wrenches the car door open with jerky movements, reaching into his backseat and pulling out a cardboard box, which he drops at Blaine’s feet. The look he sends at them is positively murderous. 

Blaine chances a glance at Kurt’s face as he bends to retrieve his box; it’s carefully blank. He doesn’t return Ryan’s stare. Instead, Kurt tugs Blaine along, box tucked under one arm. Blaine is simultaneously grateful and annoyed at the way Kurt has commandeered this whole situation. A part of him wishes he could have handled this himself, even when he’s breathlessly grateful for Kurt’s unplanned intervention. 

“Don’t call him again. Don’t come here again.” Kurt’s eyes are flat and cold, his tone set. There is something about this side of Kurt that makes Blaine feel protected. He knows Kurt won’t ever let Ryan hurt him again. Ryan’s lips thin as he presses them together. Kurt ushers Blaine into the foyer of the apartment, waiting for the heavy door to close before turning wide, blue eyes on him. 

“Kurt-“ He doesn’t have a chance to speak, is cut off when Kurt turns away and starts his way upstairs, still carrying his box. 

Blaine follows mutely, wondering how the hell he’s going to get himself out of this. It certainly doesn’t look good on his part. It’s clear he’s been in communication with Ryan and hasn’t confided it to Kurt. Blaine can’t say he knows what Kurt is feeling or how he is reading the situation, but Blaine sees clearly enough that in keeping something so important from Kurt, he’s been going behind his back. Blaine scrambles to find a way to justify what he’s done, for a way to make Kurt understand something he’s not even sure he understands himself. 

Kurt shoulders the door to his apartment open, dropping the box with a bang just inside the door. 

“Hey, Kurt.” Nick wanders out from the kitchen nook with a slice of toast in his hand. For five humming seconds, the three of them stare at each other. The tension between Kurt and himself is palpable. 

“Okaaay. Awkward. I’ll be in my room.” Nick flees, leaving Blaine without so much as a backward glance. _Traitor_ , Blaine thinks. 

Kurt turns to him then, hands on his hips. His face is pale, other than two high spots of color on his cheekbones. A tingling numbness sweeps through Blaine, from his fingers to his lips and down his legs. They stare at one another for a while, and Blaine tries frantically to think of what he should say. Kurt just stares. He’s obviously waiting. The longer the silence plays out, the more frantic and unsure Blaine becomes. 

“I’m sorry.” They’re the only words he can think clearly. He is sorry. Kurt draws back like Blaine’s slapped him. 

“You’re sorry? You’re _sorry_?” Kurt’s voice has gone straight past upset into a higher pitch that signals serious danger territory. Blaine reaches toward him, but Kurt jerks away. There are tears in the corners of his eyes. Blaine swallows and closes his own. “How long?” Kurt whispers, voice quivering. Blaine shrugs, examining the floor. “How. Long?” Kurt’s voice is strengthening. Blaine tries to stand taller, to unwind shoulders that have curled in defensively. 

“He’s been texting since the start of summer.” Blaine hates that his confession is whispered, but he can’t help it. 

“You’ve been in contact with him this whole time?” Kurt’s voice is expanding into the small apartment, radiating with emotion. 

Blaine twitches a hand, trying to calm Kurt, sure the neighbors can hear him now, “Do not,” Kurt continues just as loudly, “try to placate me, Blaine Anderson. I’ll be as loud as I want to be when I’ve just found out my boyfriend has been lying to me for months.” 

Blaine looks up then, feeling a little angry now himself. It’s really been just over a month. A month and a half at most. “No, no. It’s not like that. I was ignoring him. I was.” 

Kurt snorts derisively. Blaine feels something curling, a hot and spiky ball of energy, in his stomach. He wishes Kurt would just talk to him before yelling. He thinks of Kurt at dinner with his family, his snarky -- and, frankly, bitchy -- remarks. _It’s not like he’s perfect, either_ , Blaine reminds himself. He squares his shoulders, trying to stay calm. 

“I haven’t been ‘in contact’ with him. I accidentally answered the phone the other night when I thought it was you. I told him it was over and to leave me alone. He kept texting and calling. Finally, he said that he got it, it was over, and we should exchange stuff. I was going to have Jeff do it- I don’t know, Ryan must have texted last night and I didn’t see it, ‘cause I was eating breakfast and all of a sudden he was here.“ 

“If that’s all it was, why didn’t you just tell me?” Kurt wipes at his tears with the tips of his fingers, posture rigid and untouchable. 

“I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t want to remind you-” Blaine closes his eyes, breathing through his nose and trying to calm down. 

“Remind me? Of what Blaine?” Kurt’s hands gesture wildly. 

“That I used to be with him. Of any of it. I just...“ He looks around, searching for the right answer. “I just wanted to handle it without you knowing. I mean, on my own. I- I didn’t know how to say no when he asked to exchange stuff.” 

“Yeah, that’s pretty common for you, isn’t it?” 

Blaine pulls back like he’s been slapped. He’s cold, suddenly, so cold. Kurt’s fingers are over his cheeks, face a picture of shock. 

“Oh, oh my god, Blaine, I am _so_ sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I swear.” He makes a gesture, a small move toward him, and Blaine moves back. It’s like a small dance they’re doing, only neither of them want to be a part of it. 

“It’s okay,” His lips are numb. He can hardly speak through them. Kurt stares at him, and he takes another deep breath, the gravity of Kurt’s words sinking in. He shakes his head. “No, you know what?” Blaine steels himself, “It’s not okay. It’s not.” He takes a step back, then another. “It’s not alright, Kurt, for you to say things like that. It wasn’t at your father’s house, and it’s not now.” 

“My father’s house?” Kurt looks like he’s four seconds from a serious tears, and Blaine is surprised to feel that he doesn’t care. 

Anger and resentment and hurt are coursing through him. He shakes his head again. 

“The things you said about my parents -- the way you just-” 

“But, Blaine I thought… I mean, you said-” Kurt’s voice breaks with tears, face crumpling. 

“Just go. Leave. I don’t- I can’t talk to you right now.” Blaine can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, can’t fathom what’s happened in the last five minutes. There is so much held in this single moment. Kurt is crying, and Blaine can’t not want to comfort him. There’s a sinking in his stomach that he knows he deserves, because he should have told Kurt what was going on. 

But the worst is the space between them, the resonating power behind what Kurt has said. How much Kurt can cut him down and take him apart with words -- even words that were only spoken in the heat and shock of a moment; there’s no part of this that Blaine can think clearly about right now. Especially with Kurt there. 

Blaine closes his eyes and breathes carefully, only opening them when he hears the soft click of a door being pulled closed. 


	10. Chapter 10

For the first 15 minutes after Kurt leaves, Blaine stares at the door in shock. There’s actually very little going on in his head; instead, he’s paralyzed, his system completely overloaded.

“Hey.” Nick’s voice breaks through his reverie; Blaine jolts hard. “Are you okay?” Nick sounds totally out of his element, looks unsure and uncomfortable. Blaine doesn’t blame him. He’d be uncomfortable, too. Biting his lip, Blaine shrugs. Instead of waiting for Nick to respond, or, god forbid, try to find some way to talk to him, Blaine skirts around him. It’s rude, but right now he needs to be alone. 

Blaine closes his door almost too quietly. He moves carefully around his room; he hangs a shirt with precision, piles his textbooks neatly just at the corner of his desk. Finally, he sits, breathing in and exhaling, heavy and shaky into the room. 

_Did that just happen?_

He lies back, the heels of his hands pressed into his eye sockets. 

_It really just did._

For a minute he tries to organize his thoughts, but he can’t. Blaine can feel himself shaking; he’s coming down from the shock of having both Ryan and Kurt show up, and from anger. 

Blaine’s been angry before, but for the first time since he can remember, he’s letting himself really _feel_ it. It courses through him, sharp and hot. Blaine knows it was wrong to keep Ryan’s continued communication a secret, but Kurt should not have said what he had. 

Blaine bites his lip, rolling onto his side. His fingers find Kurt’s number in his phone automatically. The longing to call Kurt, to apologize and smooth over, is overwhelming. Blaine freezes, thumb hovering over the dial button. What would he say? He’s upset and hurt and maybe a little defensive and _really_ fucking confused. 

A small voice in his head whispers that his anger is just that -- defensiveness. An unwillingness to examine his own errors. He doesn’t want to think about how hurt Kurt must have been -- must still be -- to find out he’s been lied to and kept out of the loop. To be shown with sudden clarity that maybe Blaine doesn’t trust him as much as he thought. 

Blaine’s chest contracts when he thinks about hurting Kurt like that. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Kurt. Maybe he just doesn’t really trust _anyone_. That’s a frightening thought, a chasm of uncertainty he’s never dared to look into before. 

Blaine’s fingers curl into his duvet, the texture of the cotton brushing against his skin. His stomach turns. He’s been hurt -- so badly; it’s no wonder everything inside is so fucked up. What happened with Ryan is something Kurt’s been working on with him, to help Blaine understand that what Ryan did to him isn’t his fault. They’ve never said the word rape; Blaine’s not even sure that is the right word for what had happened. Whatever it was, it had been the worst experience of Blaine’s life, something that had tainted and changed him, that often lingered in the small space between his skin and muscles. 

Whatever it was, it’s still there. With Kurt’s help, he’s started trying to come to terms with. 

With Kurt’s help. 

Which makes it worse. If it were anyone else throwing it in his face that he can’t say no, Blaine might be hurt or offended, because he does have and has had a hard time saying no, to requests both little and big. But Kurt is the only person is his life who knows just how deep that wound runs, who’s been there with him through the aftershocks and held him through nightmares. 

It’s hard to think clearly about any of this, though, because above everything else is a deep feeling of betrayal. It might be disproportionate to what had actually happened, but Blaine can’t help it. He’s hurt and angry. Kurt is one of the most compassionate people he’s ever known, but he’s so impulsive with his words sometimes, like that night at his father’s house; Blaine’s seen first-hand how Kurt’s mouth gets ahead of him and he says things he regrets later. 

Regardless, it isn’t okay. Maybe it isn’t right of him to still be angry about that night at Kurt’s father’s house. Maybe he should have talked to Kurt about it the next day when he realized he was still upset. Rationally, Blaine realizes that throwing that night in Kurt’s face isn’t really fair. 

Blaine should be used to being hurt by now. Ryan did it often enough. But from Kurt, who has been his best friend, his biggest supporter, who has defended Blaine so staunchly… it just seems to make this hurt more. 

Blaine rolls back, dropping his phone onto the bed next to him. He thinks of his life, of what it might look like without Kurt in it. Something hollow and sick fills his chest. Not loving Kurt isn’t an option. He’s still angry, still confused and wrecked in the wake of that argument, but he’ll forgive Kurt. And hopefully, if he’s lucky, Kurt will forgive him. 

~*~ 

Kurt calls him the next day. Blaine rejects the call, biting his lip. He texts Kurt, though -- he doesn’t want Kurt to freak out any more than he probably already is. 

_To Kurt: I’m sorry. I’m not ready yet._

Dizzy, Blaine breathes in slowly. It goes against every instinct he has to send the text. He can picture Kurt in a dozen scenarios -- crying on the phone with Mercedes, curled up in bed, tangled in self recrimination. Still angry with him. 

It makes Blaine sick, thinking of Kurt hurting so much, but he hasn’t even begun to sort out the tangled threads of their argument -- which parts are his fault and which are Kurt’s and how on earth to apologize when he himself feels so deeply hurt. 

Maybe he should call Kurt. But what if it doesn’t matter, because what if Kurt is done with him anyway? 

_No_ , he reminds himself firmly. _Kurt is my best friend. He loves me._

On the edge of his bed, Blaine runs fingers through his unwashed hair and grimaces. He collects fresh clothes and a towel and thinks. He thinks as he turns on the water, waiting for it to heat up. He thinks and unknots and worries all through lathering and soaping and shaving. 

By the time he’s standing in front of the mirror, trying to tame curls that have started to grow too long again, he’s exhausted. 

Blaine wanders his room like a ghost, making no noise, touching things briefly before moving on, flitting from his bed to dresser, fingers lighting on his pictures. Kurt’s face shines in one, smile bright and unselfconscious. _I make him look like that_ , Blaine thinks in wonder. He sits at his desk, hoping to distract himself with emails;.his eye catches a post card. Wes’s post card. 

Moving slowly, Blaine leans forward and unpins it. The lights of New York are unfamiliar, but somehow, it’s a picture that makes him feel at home. He flips it over. 

_Hope to see you here one day soon!_

Wes’s messy scrawl covers the tiny space allotted for a message. Blaine smiles fleetingly, fingers touching the surface of the postcard gently. His heart twists painfully. He’s given up so many things, things that no matter how deeply regretted, he’ll never get back or be able to change. 

But this -- New York, his own life, things he’s always dreamt of and wanted -- why can’t he have those? He wants them; oh god, he wants so badly just to live his own life. It’s a thought that sets off a flash of understanding; it burns into his bones and leaves an echo behind his eyes. 

If he wants to go to New York, he realizes, he can. If he wants to leave Ohio and become a Buddhist monk, he can. It’s not some amorphous idea, but a solid reality. He can go skydiving or get a tattoo or become a homeless artist living the dream, if he wants to, because this is his life, and for the first time in years, he can actually feel that. This thing, New York and his dreams of pursuing music -- this one thing he’d always really wanted -- is a tangible reality. 

It’s a heady and frankly huge epiphany that’s unfortunately interrupted by the knock on his door. His desk chair squeaks when he turns. “Yeah?” 

Jeff’s head pops in; he keeps the door mostly shut around him. “Nick told me you had a fight with Kurt.” Jeff’s face is drawn and obviously uncomfortable. “I thought you might want to talk about it?” 

Blaine cocks his head to the side. Jeff is a good friend, and although they’ve become steadily closer over the past year, they’ve never really done this heart to heart thing. Jeff has offered -- when Blaine was dating Ryan, Jeff had often tried in his own ridiculously awkward way to initiate conversations. 

But right now, Blaine’s head is an ugly mess of anger and shame, and in his hands is a postcard from a city that spells regret deep in his heart. He nods. 

Jeff moves in cautiously, shutting Blaine’s door carefully behind him. He leans against the door for a minute, considering, before sitting at the edge of Blaine’s bed. They stare at each other for a while, unsure how to proceed. 

Finally, Blaine sighs, eyes averted. “Why do you think I stayed in Ohio?” 

He hears Jeff’s sucked in breath and counts the fibers of the faded carpet below his feet. Blaine is struck by the idea that Ohio and New York and everything in between have somehow come to represent so much more than just spaces or a place to live. It’s him. It’s this crazy dichotomy between who he wants to be and who he’s become. 

“I- I’m not sure. Your parents? The thing with studying music not being okay?” 

“It was Ryan.” Blaine clears his throat, looking up and then away. He can feel one tear, then another, sliding down his face, but makes no move to wipe them away. Jeff shifts; Blaine can hear the bedsprings moving. “My parents would have been okay with Columbia. Or any school, really. Anywhere. So long as it wasn’t music. It’s not like they cared if I was close or not.” Blaine clenches his hands into fists, bending the postcard. He wonders why he feels so dangerously undone, on the brink of some sort of breakdown. He thinks about asking Jeff to leave after all. 

“Ryan didn’t want you to leave, did he?” Jeff asks. 

Blaine nods. He wipes the tears that are still falling with his shoulder. Jeff starts to speak and then stops. Blaine hears the deep inhalation that follows, then another, before he speaks himself. “I’ve never really even admitted that to myself. Is that weird?” 

Jeff shrugs again. “I don’t know. I guess we all lie to ourselves about the things we don’t want to face, right?” 

Blaine takes a deep breath. It’s a day for revelations. He’s a little overwhelmed by them, to be honest. Silence unwinds, neither of them moving beyond the breaths they take. 

“What do you want, Blaine?” It’s not said harshly. It’s curious, and Blaine understands Jeff’s meaning. He lays the postcard down on his desk carefully, trying to think through his anger and the churning fear that it’s already too late for any of the choices he could make. 

“Too much. Not enough.” He doesn’t explain what he means, and Jeff doesn’t ask. _I don’t think I can, though_ , he doesn’t say. _I want Kurt and I want New York. I want love, and I want to be a new person and leave it all. And I have to chose and I don’t know if I can pick one over the other, because each is like an arm or a leg or a half of my heart that I can’t live without._

Their eyes meet for a moment before Blaine closes his and sighs. 

“Need time to think now?” Jeff asks, and Blaine nods. Jeff squeezes his shoulder on his way out. 

It’s been years since Blaine’s let himself dream of New York, of a life free from his parents and Ryan. New York was a dream of the person he could be, of where he could have music, city lights and the rush of so many people, so many hearts beating in one space. He could have love he wouldn’t have to hide. Ohio was always something he felt he’d just had to endure. 

He’s not the boy he was any more, a boy so desperately lonely he’d take whatever scraps he could get, even if those scraps were sometimes brutal and occasionally mean and often violating. He’s somewhere in a strange limbo between the dream of New York and the reality of Ohio, in the agonizing wake of Ryan in his life. 

All because of Kurt. Because Kurt came along and set fire to his heart and his life and helped him burn away so much of what was hurting him. 

But he wants the Kurt _and __the dream. He wants the Kurt _in_ the dream. Blaine wants Kurt to be everywhere and anywhere he is. He wants them both, and it feels like splitting in two. Kurt will never leave his family and his father; they mean so much to him. _

Blaine closes his eyes, breath hitching. When the phone in his hand rings again, he clears his throat and answers. 

~*~ 

They meet at the coffee shop they went to that first day after they’d spent hours getting to know each other in a late night diner. Nothing has changed, really. It’s more empty, owing to campus being less populated due to summer break. It’s overwarm, with creaking ceiling fans doing little to stir the air. But it smells the same, rich with coffee that’s being ground. 

Kurt’s dressed for this carefully, Blaine can tell. Blaine wants to laugh -- even in the heat, Kurt is wearing multiple layers. There’s a pang when he realizes that right now, he doesn’t even want to unpeel them, to reveal the softer core of the man who lies below. 

Right now, he feels exposed, fragile and drawn. No one in his life has loved him the way Kurt does, but he’s starting to realize that these things inside are bigger than his own capacity to cope. It isn’t fair for them both to depend on Kurt to help him fix them. 

Blaine sits down carefully, placing his coffee on the table. He’s not sure what he ordered, has less than no interest in actually drinking it. Kurt is stunning in the sunlight filtering into the shop. Blaine watches as Kurt’s fingers twitch, reaching out a little before curling in on themselves. He thinks that any other day, he would have reached out, comforting Kurt with his own hands, smoothing a bridge between them. 

“I’m sorry.” Kurt’s voice is quiet. His normally pristine posture is absent; Blaine can read the vulnerability and uncertainty there. He thinks of the boy Kurt used to be, as lonely and desperate to be loved as he had been. The boy who lost himself in bathroom stalls and bedrooms in the arms of men who could never give him what he longed for. For the first time, Blaine really sees what it is that he brings to Kurt’s life. How much Kurt needs Blaine’s love. 

“I know. I am, too.” Blaine doesn’t try to smile. He knows he can’t. In the end, he does reach his hand out, palm up, and Kurt tentatively puts his over it so they are palm to palm, carefully touching. Kurt’s beautiful blue eyes are filled with tears; he’s so goddamn heartbreaking when he cries. Blaine flinches when the first tear falls. 

“I- we need to talk about what you did, but first, “ Kurt’s voice wobbles, “I have to know that you know I didn’t mean it like that, right?” It’s pleading, that’s what that sound is in Kurt’s voice. He sounds so young and unsure. “I would never, ever have said- I just-“ Blaine cuts him off. 

“Weren’t thinking?” He doesn’t want to sound bitter, but he can’t help it. He’s come to realize a lot of things in the past day, but he can’t deny that what Kurt did hurt. Kurt looks down. Their palms rest flat against each other. Kurt’s hand is trembling over his. 

“I know I need to work on that. I know. Please give me the chance. You have to- I need you to know that I’d never hurt you on purpose. I can be too quick to defend myself. Maybe I’m too used to being hurt, so it’s just instinct to hurt back. It’s the only weapon I had for so long.” For the first time, his fingers squeeze Blaine’s. 

“For so long, Blaine, my words were the only defense I had.” 

Blaine nods. He bites his lip, exhaling shakily, and squeezes back. “It’s just- what you said… it really hurt. I’d like you to try not to do that anymore -- to maybe think before you say things.” He stops himself from leaning over to wipe the tears off of Kurt’s face. “What you said- it hurt so much because of what Ryan did to me. You shouldn’t have said it, but I think now that I realize I need to work this out. I can’t act like you are responsible for fixing it or healing it or whatever. Maybe I need help from someone else, like a therapist.” 

Kurt nods, swallowing. “Are you-“ Kurt’s voice breaks, “Please, Blaine. _Please_ don’t leave me.” 

Blaine wonders how Kurt could even think that, even for a second. It’s not even a choice. Not when his heart beats so painfully, not when he can feel his skin crackling and his breath breaking with the need to be closer. 

“No!” Blaine is shaking his head, threading his fingers through Kurt’s. “No, Kurt- it’s… we were both wrong.” He doesn’t stop himself this time, and Kurt’s tears are warm against his fingers. “I won’t leave if you won’t,” Blaine promises, trying to smile, and Kurt’s lips tremble when he shakes his head a little. 

“I’ll never say goodbye to you.”


	11. Chapter 11

It’s strange for a little while, after that. They talk a little. Blaine pretends to drink his coffee, thinking there’s a rather large elephant in the room and they’re both avoiding it; he’s not even sure why. When he’s done, Kurt stands. He bites his lip, looking away, before holding a tentative hand out. Blaine takes it, breathing deeply when they walk out into the sunshine together. He’s not sure where they go from here.

Kurt seems content to walk, and so they do. They still don’t talk much. Blaine wonders if Kurt is biding his time, or if he just doesn’t know what to say. Blaine thinks about what comes next. He wants to curl Kurt in, to hold him close so that they can both lose themselves. Remembering the night at Kurt’s parent’s house, the way he’d used the spark between them to smooth over what should have been talked about, Blaine resists leading Kurt back to his apartment. 

They sit in the park for a while. Kurt picks a flower -- just a weed, really -- and gives it to Blaine, blush high on his cheeks. When Blaine tips his head onto Kurt’s shoulder, it feels easier. Easier to talk without looking at him. 

“Kurt- I’m so sorry.” Against his body, Kurt stiffens a little before reaching out for Blaine’s hand, twining their fingers together. “I can’t imagine how it must feel to you… how much that must have hurt.” 

“Blaine-” Kurt chides softly. 

Blaine smiles a little, sitting back up. “Okay, I _was_ keeping things from you. I didn’t do it to hurt you or because I don’t want to share things with you, necessarily.” 

“So what was it?” Kurt looks away, eyes squinted a bit against the sunlight. 

“I… I don’t want Ryan between us,” Blaine confesses. 

Kurt turns back to frown at him, opens his mouth and then closes it and takes a deep breath. He speaks carefully a moment later. “What do you mean by that?” 

“I mean- what I have with you… you make me feel so new. So good and a part of me kind of wants to forget the past three years even happened. I only want to remember you, to think of you. Bringing Ryan into it, telling you what was going on-” Blaine swallows, “it felt like it would taint this, for us, a little.” 

Kurt’s hand rises to brush over the nape of Blaine’s neck, down the tensed line of his shoulder. “Blaine… please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not sure if that’s healthy. Or realistic.” 

“I know.” Blaine can barely hear his own confession. 

“And, besides, honey, he’s already there. He’s a part of what made you who you are, and who you are is the best thing in my life.” Kurt’s cheeks flush when he voice trembles a bit. 

Suddenly Blaine’s heart feels too big and too small at the same time. 

“Kurt.” He watches the way Kurt turns his cheek into his touch, eyes fluttering shut so that the light bounces off of his lids. It strikes Blaine suddenly that even though Kurt is the strongest person he knows, there are parts of Kurt that are so delicate it would be so easy for him to rupture them. “You’re the best thing in my life, too.” 

He thumbs away the tear that rolls down Kurt’s cheek, blinking his own eyes against the sting of tears. 

“I was so scared, Blaine,” Kurt confesses. “I couldn’t even think, really, about everything with Ryan last night. Poor Sara, she stayed up with me most of the night, trying to convince me that it was going to be all right. The only thought in my head was that I’d somehow managed to ruin everything.” 

Shaking his head, Blaine locks eyes with Kurt. “No, no. Never.” He should have realized when they’d sat down to coffee, how vulnerable Kurt was feeling.. “We both made mistakes, and I need to own mine and be sure that you know -- I love you and I promise to try to never do that again.” 

“I know.” Kurt pulls away a little; he’s formulating his words thoughtfully. 

Blaine waits, watching the way the grass bends in the bright sunshine. Kurt’s fingers tighten almost painfully around his when he speaks again. 

“You -- you’re everything. _Everything_.” Kurt’s head leans against his, and Blaine sighs; something tight unwinds in his chest. “I know it’s not perfect, will never be perfect between us; I think we could both learn to trust what we have a little more. We’ll get it wrong sometimes, but never on purpose. And I promise I’ll never stop trying to be the best thing for you, in your life. It’s not just that you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.” Kurt pauses, breathes deep. “Blaine, you’re the love of my life.” 

Clearing his throat, Blaine blinks slowly, examining Kurt’s earnest eyes. His thumb strays back over the curve of Kurt’s ear; his heart is beating so hard in his chest he’s sure Kurt can hear it. He thinks of New York, and it seems crazy to think there was ever a choice to make. Because there is nothing, couldn’t be anything, in one city that burns so bright as this boy. 

“I won’t, either. I won’t ever stop trying,” he promises. His fingers tingle and his eyes burn when he leans in to kiss Kurt, tentative and unsure. Kurt exhales brokenly against his lips, eyes closed. “And Kurt?” 

“Hm?” Kurt doesn’t move away, forehead heavy against his. 

“You are, too. You’re the love of my life, too.” 

~*~ 

They wander back to Blaine’s apartment, which is empty and cool. Kurt turns Blaine in the doorway, catching him as he’s toeing off his shoes. Kurt’s lips are too warm on his; Blaine stumbles into his arms, still half in one shoe. He’s tempted to just keep moving, to sway into Kurt and give and give and give. 

Instead, he pulls back, hands running soothingly up Kurt’s arms. He can’t, not yet. Kurt’s words still sit, sharp inside his ribs. He’s not upset at Kurt anymore, but the words have managed to dislodge something he’s been ignoring for far too long, something shameful and too big for Blaine to push back any longer. He doesn’t want to be with Kurt when he’s feeling even an ounce of the shame rioting in his chest 

“It’s just- I can’t, not yet,” he tries to explain. Kurt is looking into his eyes, searching. His shrug is jerky with uncertainty and understanding. Blaine swallows, then tugs Kurt behind him. 

“Will you lie with me, please? Just hold me?” His voice is soft. Blaine’s heart is thundering, jagged and cracking in his chest. He remembers a night, months ago, when he’d asked Kurt for the same thing -- just to hold him. When he’d been a different boy, entangled and hopelessly snared in a relationship that was eating at him. A boy who was drawn desperately to Kurt’s warmth and heart but who wasn’t ready yet, or strong enough yet, to trust that he could have him. That he deserved something other than the pain and humiliation that cloaked him every day. 

Sometimes, when Blaine thinks about the way Kurt has opened the shell around his heart, he wonders if Kurt is more like a bright spot, the bloom of wildflowers in his chest, or if he is rooting, digging and growing and sowing something steady and grounding into what was left of him. Either way, Kurt is free and beautiful, and Blaine is grateful for the knowledge that Kurt lies deep inside him, always, where it matters most. 

Kurt follows him into his room. Still silent, Blaine stretches out on his bed, watching as Kurt unbuttons his vest and removes his constricting tie before climbing onto the bed with him. He gathers Blaine close, fingers shaking. Blaine settles his head on Kurt’s chest, one leg winding between Kurt’s. Kurt’s heartbeat is soothing, and Blaine exhales gratefully, letting Kurt pull him closer. Kurt’s hands feel steadier than they looked, smoothing over his shoulders and arms rhythmically. 

When Blaine wakes up, Kurt is still wrapped around him, hands still moving and circling and centering him. He stretches and tries to lean up and catch a glimpse of his alarm. Kurt’s voice is cracked with disuse. 

“You’ve only been out for an hour or so.” Blaine’s head sinks back down. He stretches his arms and legs one at a time, furling himself back around the pulling warmth of Kurt’s body. Waking comes to him slowly, in increments of insight and awareness. He’s uncomfortable in his jeans. The air around their bodies is cold. His head hurts vaguely, and he’s hungry. 

"Do you want something to eat?" Blaine has to strain to hear Kurt. Tilting his chin up, he rests it on Kurt's chest, smiling a little. Kurt smiles back, eyes hooded. 

"I could eat." When Blaine sits up, it's with a wince. His whole body is sore and stiff, probably from all the stress he's been holding onto, and the way he slept. Kurt's hand is reassuring and familiar as it runs down the length of his arm. 

"Whatever you want, I'll go get it for you." Blaine can read the guilt and distress; it's all over Kurt's lovely face. 

“Kurt.” Blaine tries to temper the chiding tone and infuse it with all of the affection Kurt inspires in him. “Stop feeling bad. It’s okay. Are you still upset with me?” 

Kurt shakes his head. 

“I can’t believe I’m the voice of reason and calm right now, but it was just a fight. It’s over -- it probably won’t be the last we have. But we love each other, and it will always be all right.” 

Kurt’s lips are pliant and slightly open under his, but Blaine doesn’t deepen the kiss too much, feeling the pulsing pound of his headache in his temples. He clambers off the bed gracelessly, turning back for Kurt's hand. 

“Okay.” Kurt brushes at the wrinkles in Blaine’s shirt. “So what do you want? I meant it. Anything.” 

"I just-" Biting his lip, he turns away. Kurt's fingers are so soft but so strong when they squeeze his. 

"What?" He waits patiently. Blaine's heart beats twice, hard. Kurt always waits so patiently for him to decide, for him to say what he wants. Blaine's never felt so heard, so important, as he does with Kurt. 

"Can we just eat something simple and hang out here?" Blaine asks. "I'm not feeling very well." 

"Yes." Kurt's fingers on his face are welcome and calming. Blaine turns into them with a sigh, eyes closed. "Whatever you want." 

They eat peanut butter and jelly quietly next to one another on the bar stools at the counter. Blaine's foot tangles with Kurt's halfway through his sandwich, and the smile Kurt shoots him is shy and contained. He sighs a little when Blaine tips his head onto his shoulder. 

"What's going on?" Kurt has put his sandwich down and is rubbing his hand over Blaine's shoulders; he hums happily and leans into the touch. Kurt’s shoulder against his forehead is steady and familiar. 

"Just a headache and sore muscles," Blaine mumbles into Kurt's shirt. Kurt's lips move over his hair, kissing lightly. They finish their sandwiches in silence. Kurt collects their paper plates, tossing them while Blaine sits, admiring the beautiful line of his thigh, the broad flex across his shoulders. 

"Come on." Kurt tilts his head toward Blaine's bedroom. "I want to try something." 

Blaine frowns a little, but follows. He's tired and feeling a little run down and hollowed by the past few days. He hopes that whatever Kurt wants to try involves sleep of some sort. When Kurt turns in the bedroom, he's twisting his fingers together nervously. 

"Can I-" He swallows, "Can I give you a backrub?" 

Blaine looks at Kurt carefully. He's somewhat confused, "Yeah, if you want to. Why are you so nervous?" 

Kurt's smile is tremulous. 

"I just- is it okay if I sit on top of you? I- I don't want you to think this is a sex thing. I just want to help you feel better. I'll be very careful not to touch you anywhere you aren't comfortable with." 

Understanding dawns, and Blaine can't help but smile. Sometimes, he thinks Kurt knows him better than he knows himself. "I trust you." 

"Okay." Kurt gestures toward the bed. "Can you take off your shirt? I promise, no funny business." His lips quirk a little. 

Blaine strips down to his skin quickly, leaving his pants on, before settling face down on the bed, shivering just a little. He's not sure anyone has ever given him a backrub before. Kurt is rooting around in his messenger bag; he'd lean up to find out why, but his bed is so comfortable and comforting underneath his cheek. The bed dips when Kurt climbs onto it. His knees are warm where they come to press against Blaine’s sides. 

"I'm going to put some lotion on your back," Kurt leans down to speak into his ear, breath warm over his sensitive skin. Blaine nods. "Can you try to tell me what feels good and what doesn't?" 

Blaine nods a little hesitantly. Behind him, he hears Kurt opening a container, then rubbing his hands together -- he thinks to warm up the lotion. When Kurt's hands finally slide over his skin, Blaine gasps. They're hot, sure and strong against his shoulders. Kurt starts to knead at the tense muscles of his shoulders; Blaine groans. 

"Tell me what feels good," he whispers again. Blaine shivers and moans in response. 

"There, oh-- _oh_ , that feels good." 

Kurt works his way over Blaine's shoulders, fingers finding all the hidden places he must have been carrying tension. The more he works on Blaine, the more boneless and relaxed Blaine becomes. He's not sure if he's ever been so relaxed, actually. Kurt's hands on him are amazing in a way he's never felt before. 

He doesn't even realize when Kurt's hands start to rub more carefully, more slowly as they work down to the small of his back. His arms are heavy, eyes closed and sleepy, as Kurt trails his fingers along the edge of his pants, kneading away lingering tension. Blaine wishes idly that he'd taken his pants off so that Kurt would keep going, but Kurt stops for a second, not going any further, before running his hands back up the lines of his back. When he leans to kiss Blaine's ear gently, Blaine feels Kurt's erection pressing against his ass. It's automatic, the way he pushes up, feeling warmth and the first threads of desire rush and pool in his belly. 

Blaine gasps, body abruptly cold; Kurt’s rolled off of him so fast Blaine doesn't even have time to process what's happened. He’s not sure he wants to. He’s much too relaxed to think anything deeper than “oh” and “sleep”. He turns his head and smiles drowsily at a rather flushed Kurt. 

"That was amazing." He scoots closer, turning over and snuggling into Kurt's side. Kurt exhales, one long breath, and Blaine laughs softly, rolling to run a heavy hand over Kurt's knee. "I thought you said this wasn't a sex thing." 

Kurt shifts a little, arms coming around him carefully. 

"I meant I wasn't doing it as a way to initiate anything. I can't help it if touching you turns me on. I'm really sorry about- Um, you know." 

Blaine frowns, pressing closer to Kurt's warmth. "Sorry about what?" His eyes are heavy, breath smoothing as he struggles to stay awake. He yawns hugely, and Kurt sighs, trailing his fingers up and down his arm. 

"We can talk about it later. Sleep." Kurt's lips at the side of his neck are tender. Blaine closes his eyes when he feels Kurt's forehead press against his back between his shoulder blades. He falls asleep feeling Kurt's warm breath wash over his skin. 

~*~ 

He wakes up alone. Early morning light floods his room through his opened blinds. On his nightstand, he finds a tented piece of notebook paper. 

_I had an early shift. You're beautiful when you sleep. -K_

Blaine rolls onto his back, fingers tracing over the loops of Kurt's words. It's early, and he has nothing to do but study later. He could close his eyes and roll back over, but he knows he'll never get back to sleep. He's refreshed and relaxed, and when he thinks of Kurt, he's filled with longing and love instead of hurt. 

He lingers in the cocoon of his warm sheets for a while, watching the sun play across his carpet and wall. Memories from last night surface; he thinks about Kurt's apology, his vulnerability and fears. Despite it all, Blaine senses he and Kurt have somehow deepened their connection, strengthened their communication. Blaine feels good, secure in the knowledge that their relationship is so durable. It’s a beautiful morning. 

He rolls onto his side, letting his thoughts wander a little; his body feels pliant and refreshed thanks to Kurt’s ministrations the night before. When he remembers the tantalizing press of Kurt's cock against his ass, the way he'd longed for Kurt's fingers to sweep lower and lower, there’s no lingering shame, only curiosity. It’s kind of a rapid turn-around from the way he’d felt the day before, but he’s not complaining. Experiencing the depth of Kurt’s respect for his boundaries, how tenderly he cares for Blaine -- it elicits a wonderful feeling of warmth and increased trust. 

He tries to think about it: Kurt's hands on him, sliding over his back, then lower, cupping and caressing him. Blaine's cock twitches, and he smiles. He's imagining Kurt naked and warm in bed with him, fingers tracing along the backs of his thighs, along the crest of each cheek, along the line of his ass and up to the small of his spine. Lazily, he pushes his sweatpants down and cups his growing erection, eyes closed as he loses himself in his fantasy. Kurt's words resonate in his head, _tell me what feels good_. His thumb swipes over the head of his cock, precome slickening over his fingers. 

He fishes out his lube, coating his erection generously. Biting down a groan, Blaine moves his hand faster as he imagines Kurt's fingers tracing lower. His breath hitches, uncertainty sinewing through him. Cautiously, he reaches, tracing his own fingers over his hole, trembling and picturing Kurt doing it. For so long, he's thought of this part of his body with trepidation and shame, but with Kurt, everything is different. Every touch is new and right. In his mind, it's Kurt's hand on his dick, sure and steady. Kurt's fingers tracing his balls and perineum and, slowly, his clenching hole. 

Blaine's nerves spark, stomach tightening as his climax builds. Lost, helpless to the sensations rushing through his body, Blaine arches, moaning as his finger breaches his body. His orgasm washes through him, long and hard. Kurt's name is on his lips, hips and legs and feet tensed and bracing as he pants through it. 

He comes down slowly, easing his finger from his body. Lethargic and sated, Blaine fumbles blindly for some tissues. His brain starts firing while his limbs buzz with lingering pressure. Blaine opens his eyes as he wipes himself off. Something like wonder lights him -- it feels like fire glowing under his skin. That was unexpected. 

Blaine lolls for twenty long minutes in bed, letting his body float in the after effects of pleasure without allowing himself to examine what’s happened just yet. 

Eventually, Blain lumbers clumsily out of bed to wash his hands in the bathroom. The lights in the tiny room are less than flattering, dimmer than the natural light filling his own room. Still, he leans into the mirror, examining his face carefully. His hair is a rioting mess, his cheeks flushed high from his orgasm. Under the cold water of the tap, his fingers tremble. When he pictures Kurt with him now, fingers or even his cock easing into him, Blaine tenses. Fear and shame twist up from his belly, into his lungs, tightening in his shoulders. 

It's too hard, too much, to really consider yet. Because when he does think about it now, all he can picture is Ryan. Ryan's hands on him, rough and possessing. Ryan inside him, often too fast and too hard. His skin crawls. 

Blaine turns away from the mirror. 


	12. Chapter 12

"Hi." Kurt's voice is sweet and low. Blaine cradles the phone against his ear as he unlocks his car, stowing his heavy bag in the backseat.

"Hi yourself." Blaine eases into his car. His fingers are sore from writing, but Kurt's voice is so welcome. 

"How was your exam?" 

Blaine puts the keys in the ignition but leans back without turning on his car. "It was fine. I think I did okay." 

Kurt is quiet. Blaine counts his breaths over the phone. 

"Is everything alright?" he finally asks. The sun is setting behind a bank of clouds. Their edges burn orange and pink, streaking the sky above them. 

"Yeah." Kurt's voice perks up, "I- I was just missing you. Is that stupid?" Blaine closes his eyes, fingers gripping the leather of his steering wheel. They've had little time for each other in the past week; Blaine's been busy studying for a particularly difficult exam, and Kurt's been working extra shifts. Blaine is thankful he’s finished with this test. 

"I miss you, too," Blaine breathes into his phone. "Call me when you get out of work?" 

"Yeah, I guess, I-." Kurt sounds small and sad. 

"Listen," Blaine breaks in. "Come over after your shift. Come sleep here." 

"Blaine, I don't get out until late. You have an early class tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you up." 

"Please, Kurt?" They've talked about this before, about not neglecting their studies or jobs for one another, but this week in particular, in the wake of their argument, Blaine feels Kurt's absence so much more. He often fantasizes about what it would be like if he and Kurt lived together. What it would feel like to take care of Kurt, to go to sleep knowing that soon enough, his bed would dip as Kurt crawled in, sleepy and warm. And _his_. 

"Okay." Kurt is almost whispering, and Blaine holds his phone closer. The sky behind Blaine is darkening slowly, but in front of him all he can see are bursting colors and light. 

~*~ 

"Hey." Blaine jumps as the door slams behind Jeff. 

"Hey yourself." Blaine looks back down at his textbook. He's so _bored_. Econ sucks. 

"So, Nick wanted me to talk to you about next year." Blaine pushes away from the counter he's been studying at, rubbing his tired eyes. 

"Next year?" He checks the time discreetly. Two hours until Kurt gets off of work. 

"School year, not _year_ year." Jeff clarifies. 

"What about it?" Blaine starts rooting through the fridge, looking for something to eat. He feels restless. _Too much studying_ , he thinks. 

"Well, Nick wanted to extend the lease, live here next year. But we have to sign again and put down a deposit." 

"Okay. So...?" Blaine shrugs. They'd already decided at the end of last semester that they were going to rent an apartment for the following year. He's not sure why Jeff is asking him about it again. 

"So are you still in, or are you doing something with Kurt?" Jeff cocks a hip against the frame of the kitchen entrance. Blaine closes the door to the fridge, empty-handed. His shoulders twitch. 

"Why would I be doing something with Kurt?" Blaine opens and closes cupboard doors, looking for something to keep his hands busy. 

"I don't know, maybe ‘cause you guys are crazy in love and you spend all your time together?" 

Blaine glares at Jeff, not appreciating the condescending tone. Jeff just shrugs. "Whatever, I'm just stating the obvious. You guys never spend a night away from each other if you can't help it. I just assumed you'd be thinking about it. It makes a lot more sense than the sleepover roulette you're doing now." 

“It’s not sleepover roulette.” Blaine’s shoulders hunch. Technically, it’s really not. 

“Okay, I’ll rephrase. It makes more sense than Kurt sleeping over like 5 nights a week. It’s cruel to keep him away from his clothes like that. Just imagine how much more you guys could be doing it if he didn’t always have to go home in the morning.” 

“He brings clothes here.” Mullish now, Blaine opens a bag of chips and tries to ignore Jeff. He can’t. “And don’t talk about us doing it. As far as you guys know, all we do is cuddle.” Jeff’s laugh is genuine and surprised. “Oh, yeah, all the noise you make is ‘cause of the spooning.” 

Blaine feels his ears burning. “Oh my god, shut up, I can’t believe you- I just-” This conversation is so out of hand. And he never realized that he and Kurt were so loud. How absolutely mortifying. “Can we not talk about it?” 

“Whatever, man.” Jeff pulls some chips from Blaine’s unattended bag. “Lease?” 

With a sigh, Blaine sets down the bag of chips. "I don't know -- I mean… isn't it a little soon?" He steps aside when Jeff reaches past him for more chips. He snatches them back, unwilling to subject himself to the crunching. 

"Hey!" Jeff looks wounded, and Blaine makes a face at him. "Have you at least talked to him about it? I mean, don't you want to?" 

Blaine shrugs again. He thinks about it -- all the time, in fact -- but he doesn't want to ask. What if Kurt says no? He swallows the lump in his throat. Jeff clears his throat, snagging the chips back and wandering out of the kitchen. 

"You should ask him." 

Blaine stands in the kitchen alone, empty-handed, staring at the door of the fridge. He thinks for a moment about what he really wants. All the things he wants. Images flood through him -- of him and Kurt, making dinner together in a cramped kitchen. Riding a subway together, hands held tight. Him and Kurt in New York, making a life together. 

Blaine sighs, straightening his shoulders. Sometimes, it's harder to let himself want. Sometimes, he misses the days when he didn't let himself wish or dream, just living according to the whims of another person, because being numb was a lot less scary than hoping for things he knows he'll never get. 

~*~ 

He wakes up to Kurt's fingers tracing over his collarbone. 

"Mmmm." Blaine shifts, rolling onto his stomach, Kurt's fingers pursue his movements, across his shoulder and to the nape of his neck. Everywhere his fingers touch tingles and warms. Neither of them speak. Blaine lets the pleasure take him, feels the strength of Kurt's love translated through his cells. 

He listens to the silence as Kurt works his way over shoulder blades and into the deep curve at the base of his spine. Slowly they stop, then move their way back up. Blaine turns his head and opens his eyes. Kurt is propped with his head on his hand, watching him. His fingers brush against the elastic of his sweatpants, and Blaine shudders a little; it feels so good, to be touched so carefully, so tenderly. The memory of his fantasy flashes behind his eyes, and, in its wake, the recollection of lingering shame. 

"Maybe soon," he whispers. 

Kurt leans in, laying his palm flat on his shoulder blade."Soon, what?" 

Blaine just closes his eyes, breathing deep. He's not ready for everything, but he hopes for the day he will be; he thinks with more confidence that he will. Kurt makes a frustrated noise, but Blaine remains silent. Instead of speaking, he leans up on his elbows, sinking into the delicate flavoring of Kurt's lips. 

They kiss for long, delicious moments, until Kurt pulls away slowly. His nose brushes Blaine's, eyes wide and sweet. Blaine turns and wraps his arm around Kurt's thin waist, pulling him closer. Kurt exhales and buries his face in Blaine's neck. "What time is your class again?" 

When he peeks over Kurt's shoulder, he sees that he has about an hour to get dressed and eat. Sighing, he sinks back down, peppering kisses over the bridge of Kurt's nose and his cheekbones. 

"I should probably get up soon and shower," Blaine says. Kurt snuggles closer, fingers tangling in his hair as they share soft kisses. "But I don't want to go," he whines. Kurt bites his lip lightly. 

"You're halfway through the semester. It’ll be over before you know it." He leans back to look into Blaine's eyes, smiling encouragingly. Blaine moves his arm and laces his fingers through Kurt's. 

"Thanks for coming over last night." He plays with Kurt's hand. "It just doesn't feel right, you know?" 

Kurt stares at him seriously. "What doesn't?" 

"Sleeping without you. Being-" Blaine feels his cheeks flushing and bites his still tingling lip. Kurt jiggles his hand encouragingly. "I just- I've been thinking..." Blaine swallows. It's too soon, he knows. He needs to stop talking, to stop wishing and getting ahead of himself. Kurt lies patiently, waiting. Blaine shakes his head a little, kissing Kurt quickly. 

"I have to get ready." He turns before he can see Kurt's face fall, but he can still hear the sigh. Blaine swallows and ignores the empty feeling in his stomach. He tells himself again that it's too soon; somewhere deep inside a little voice scoffs. _I’m such a coward_ , he thinks, too afraid to risk Kurt saying no. 

Ignoring that voice, Blaine blows Kurt a kiss before disappearing into his bathroom. 

~*~ 

A few hours later, he's walking out of a classroom and onto a mostly empty campus. Kurt was right; he’s only got a few weeks before this is over. His shoulders feel lighter; he’ll have a whole month off before fall classes start. Blaine thinks ahead to the fall semester -- more boring classes he has no interest in taking. At least, he thinks, he's managed to sneak in one literature class. 

His father would never pay for credits in something like music or art ( _Come on, Blaine, I’m not paying for useless classes. You’ve really got to focus now. Grow up a little_.) Blaine doesn't even bother to try anymore, not wanting to rock the boat. Lit classes are a sort of bargain he’s managed to strike. They’re small ways to immerse himself in some sort of art, without drawing disappointment from his parents. It took some convincing, but he’d managed to get his father to agree to pay for the credits he’d been saving to pay for himself. Having to give up his job for school really sucked. He’d finally managed to convince his father when he’d explained that he needed credits outside his major anyway. 

The apartment is empty when he swings in, dropping his bag and leaving his shoes by the entry. On the counter is a stack of papers with a bright sticky note on them. 

_Lease agreement. We need to turn it in by next week._

Jeff's messy scrawl covers the small note. Something cold gathers at the base of Blaine’s spine. If Blaine is being honest with himself, he has to admit he really doesn't want to sign the lease. He doesn't care how small or dingy of an apartment he lives in. He wants to live with Kurt. 

Although he never really lets himself dwell on it, Blaine knows exactly what he would do if he could have it all. Everything he's wished for, dreamt of: finishing school in Ohio with Kurt, living together, making a small space theirs. Waking up and falling into easy sleep with him every night. Toothbrushes in the same holder, closets dominated by Kurt's intimidating wardrobe. Blaine badly wants to struggle for closet space with Kurt. 

And, after graduation, moving to New York. He won’t want to worry about finding some sort of boring job to appease his father. On his own, he could make music, live on his own paychecks from whatever job he finds. He’ll finally live without his father's strings tangling him. In his dreams, Blaine doesn't care if he has to sing on street corners. He gets to make music and art, to reach people and be happy. Down-in-the-bones, every-way happy. 

But, most of all, he wants Kurt with him. Kurt in New York is an incredible picture. Kurt with him is the epitome of every dream and hope he's had. 

Blaine closes his eyes and picks up the lease papers, stuffing them into his desk drawer. He clenches his lips together, examining his postcard, still tucked into the corner of his cork board. His fingers are cold and steady when he pulls it out, laying it on top of the packet of papers before slamming the drawer shut. If there is anything he dreads more than an empty future, stuck in Ohio and working at some meaningless job, it's a life without Kurt. A world where he took the risk of asking, only to have Kurt say no. 

Blaine drops onto the bed, rolling onto his side and sighing. Maybe soon Kurt will ask him if he wants to live together. He'll say yes in a heartbeat, he knows. Eventually, if Kurt wants to stay with him, they'll make a space of their own. He'll stay in Ohio, where Kurt can be close to his family, to his father. Everything will be fine. His father is right; not every dream has to come true. Realism is steadier, easier. He'll live a life without risk, yes, but it will be safe and secure. Just what his parents have always wanted for him.


	13. Chapter 13

There’s a soft knock on Blaine’s door.

“Blaine?” 

Kurt peeks in carefully. In the dark room, Blaine closes out of his browser page quickly, turning to smile at his boyfriend. “You realize you don’t have to knock,” Blaine points out. 

Kurt shrugs. “Well, you never know.” 

“Yeah, you do,” Blaine laughs, pulling Kurt forward and down, tipping his lips up for a kiss. “You. Don’t. Have. To. Knock.” He punctuates the words with small pecks and nips. 

“Hmmm.” Kurt pushes into the kiss a little harder; Blaine tilts back into his chair, which squeaks loudly in protest. “You really should fix that,” Kurt points out, pulling back. 

“I know.” Blaine is only half listening; his thumbs have found their way under Kurt’s simple henley shirt, stroking his hipbones while cupping Kurt’s sides. Kurt stills the movement of his hands with soft fingers and an arched eyebrow. 

“I believe someone promised me a home-cooked meal.” 

Blaine sighs. “I did.” 

“Well, I’m absolutely famished. If you’re planning on having any of this later,” Kurt flourishes a hand, gesturing toward his body, “you’ll have to feed me first. Raincheck?” He cups Blaine’s cheek fleetingly before tugging Blaine up. 

Blaine groans but follows. “Raincheck.” 

~*~ 

“Oh god, I ate way too much, and there wasn’t even cheesecake involved.” Kurt leans back, reclining on the futon, legs crossed at the ankles. 

“You never eat too much.” Blaine snuggles his head into the curve of Kurt’s stomach, pressing his face against the comforting fabric of Kurt’s shirt. His fingers trace the shape of Kurt’s ribs, making him shift. 

“That tickles!” 

Blaine ignores him, winding his hand around the expanse of bone. “Seriously, Kurt, you need to eat more.” He frowns, looking up at Kurt. “You’ve lost some weight.” 

“Blaine,” Kurt sighs, “I’m fine. I’m just busy at work.” His fingers move steady and rhythmic over the outside edge of Blaine’s ear. “Wait.” Kurt sits up a little. “Does my ass still look fabulous?” 

“Kurt, your ass will always be fabulous.” 

“Well, then...” Kurt tugs his ear, and Blaine smiles into Kurt’s stomach. “That’s all that matters.” 

They stay in the silence for a while. Kurt strokes his warm hand over any part of Blaine he can reach: the round slope of his shoulder and bicep, the soft curls forming at the base of his head, massaging into the muscles of his neck. 

Blaine lets himself drift, enjoying the soothing touch. He knows that Kurt loves this -- loves touching and exploring Blaine’s skin, making him feel good. It’s safe, lovely to know Kurt wants to touch him for the sake of touching, to give instead of to take. 

“What were you doing on your computer?” Kurt asks suddenly. 

“Hmmm?” Blaine starts out of his haze. “Nothing.” He stretches his legs out, turning until he’s belly down on the futon, burying his face into Kurt’s thigh. 

“Wait, I lied.” 

“What?” Kurt pushes against him a little. “I can’t hear you when you talk into my leg, Blaine.” 

“I lied.” Blaine turns his head. “I mean, just now -- I was doing something on the computer.” 

“Okay...” Kurt sounds puzzled. “Can I ask what you were doing?” 

Blaine gets his hands under himself, pushing upright and curling his arms around his legs. Before he can do it, Kurt scoots closer, tucking Blaine’s toes under his thigh. His head rests against the back of the futon, eyes a hazy blue-green and cautious. 

“So… the other day, after we fought?” 

“Yes?” Kurt’s hand slips over Blaine’s knee, squeezing. 

“I said that maybe I should… talk to someone, you know.” Blaine has to turn his eyes away, jerking his shoulder a little. “And I’ve been thinking about it.” 

“And your thoughts on the subject?” Kurt’s words are kind but searching, coaxing Blaine to open up a little more. 

“I think I should- I was--” Blaine breaks off, closing his eyes before resting his forehead on Kurt’s hand where it’s gripping his knee. “I was trying to figure out how to do it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m insured under my parents,” Blaine states plainly. “I don’t think they’ll go for it.” 

“ _It_ being...?” Kurt leading him. 

“Therapy?” Blaine looks up again. “You don’t... you wouldn’t think less of me, would you?” 

“Blaine.” Kurt’s eyebrows draw down, his eyes tilting with sadness. “I don’t think I could ever think less of you. This makes me proud. _You_ make me proud.” The fingers of his free hand come up, thumb soft against the crest of Blaine’s cheek. 

“I hope so.” Blaine’s voice cracks. “I want you to be.” 

“Good. I am. But it’s more important to me that _you_ are proud of _yourself_.” Kurt looks into his eyes; Blaine shrugs a little. 

“You’re scared of what they’d say,” Kurt states; Blaine nods, the start of tears stinging his eyes. “Were you looking for an alternative solution?” 

“Yeah.” Blaine exhales, straightening his posture. “They offer counseling here, free for students. Ten sessions. I was thinking about maybe calling them. Is that… do you think that would be good?” 

“Blaine.” Kurt kisses his forehead, then his cheek. “Do _you_ think it would be good?” 

Blaine’s eyes close, then open. Kurt is all he can see, the angles of his face and the way he’s so beautiful it sometimes hurts. He offers a small smile, cupping Kurt’s cheeks for a kiss. 

“I think it would be.” 

~*~ 

“You ready to call?” Kurt asks. 

Blaine shifts, sticky and warm, body loose and spent. “Right now?” His voice is heavy with sleep and threaded with laughter. 

“Of course not right now,” Kurt huffs. “It’s ten at night.” 

Blaine pauses before speaking carefully. “I think so.” 

Kurt moves away, trying to get out of the bed, his pale back glimmering in the lamplight. 

Blaine rolls with him, wrapping still shaking arms around him. “Hmmm, don’t go.” His lips leave a moist trail, traversing the dips between Kurt’s vertebrae. “You’re so beautiful. Mine.” 

“We’re a mess.” Even as he speaks, Kurt relaxes against him. His hand slips up to find the back of Blaine’s head blindly, scratching his nails through the curls, gasping quietly when Blaine’s teeth scrape against his neck. Blaine’s eyes close when he breathes Kurt in, rolling to meet the backward movement of Kurt’s hips. 

“Blaine, honey.” Kurt’s stomach flexes under Blaine’s seeking hand; he's still sticky with come and sweat. Blaine never realized this about himself before, but he loves that. Loves when Kurt comes on him, slippery and hot. Loves to feel himself on Kurt, fingers rubbing it hard into Kurt’s skin. 

“Hmmm?” Blaine moves his hand, more insistent, the sharp jut of Kurt’s hipbone solid in his grip. 

“Blaine we’re not 16 anymore.” Kurt gasps when Blaine’s hand slips down, parting Kurt’s thighs with confidence, cupping Kurt where he’s warm and damp, soft and tempting. 

“You say that like we’re 40. What’s your point?” He pulls Kurt onto his back, straddling him high by his waist, fingers on Kurt’s nipples. “We’ll just get to slower this time.” 

Kurt smiles up at him, fingers trailing hard over Blaine’s arms. On his face is challenge and mischief. “You think a lot of your abilities.” 

“No, honey,” Blaine laughs against Kurt’s lips, then licks just inside them. “I think a lot of yours.” 

~*~ 

They sleep, tangled under the cocoon of sheets. Kurt wakes with sunlight slanting over their legs; it’s too warm with Blaine wrapped around him, light from the window heating the sheets over their bodies. 

Still, he’s reticent to move, enjoying the fall and rise of Blaine’s chest against his own ribs. Blaine’s face is pillowed against his shoulder; Kurt can’t see much more than curls rioting and the curve of one ear. 

Kurt wonders sometimes if he might be too far in love, so in love that just the slope of Blaine’s ear inspires so many feelings. It’s fragile and thin-skinned and somehow, it’s _Blaine_ essential -- precious and sometimes something he has to be so tremendously careful with. Blaine breathes in deeply, then nuzzles his face into Kurt. 

“Mmm. Hot.” 

Kurt smiles, presses a small kiss to Blaine’s head. 

Soon, Kurt knows, Blaine will be fully awake. His thumb is moving slowly against Kurt’s side. It’s repetitive, and it would be soothing if Kurt didn’t know that it meant Blaine is thinking. He keeps still and quiet, waiting for Blaine to start talking. It really is too hot; Kurt can feel the prickles of sweat starting in the hollows of his own neck, the places where their bodies are plastered together. Kurt hates sweating, but he’s loathe to move. Everything they’d spoken of the night before -- things Blaine hasn’t resolved -- weigh heavy on his mind. 

Blaine had needed him, had come to him after their talk with tender urgency. Kurt never turns away from Blaine in those moments, the moments when Blaine wants to feel Kurt so desperately with him. These are the times when Blaine speaks the most during intimacy -- asking Kurt to touch him, to own his body and, for a short time, help him forget the noise that fills his head. 

“I should call.” 

Kurt feels the warmth of Blaine’s breath against his body. He doesn’t say anything, waiting for Blaine to make up his own mind. He knows it’s important for Blaine to do these things, to make his own decisions. 

“But, first, shower.” Blaine looks up, impish smile bright on his face. “‘Cause we’re kind of gross.” 

Kurt laughs, passing an open palm over the crest of Blaine’s curls. He is so happy; all the things he doubted he’d find for so long are wrapped up with him in this bed. The sun streams through the windows, his body spent in the most delicious way, and his heart wide open with love for this boy who, despite the things life has given him -- despite the lack of love and compassion and nurturing -- offers Kurt everything he can with so much sweetness. 

It’s a beautiful morning. 

~*~ 

“So, Blaine.” Wendy offers him a smile that does nothing to calm the racing of his heart, rabbit-quick with anxiety, “What brings you to us?” 

Blaine shifts, feeling the leather of the couch stick to the back of his thighs. He has no idea what he’s supposed to say. It there some sort of concise answer to her question? Blaine isn’t really sure he can summarize the wreckage that was his life until now. 

“Um.” He bites his lip., “I don’t- I’m not even sure where to start.” 

Wendy tilts her head. On her lap, she has the pile of paperwork he’d filled out in the waiting room -- personal questions he’d tried hard to answer as honestly as he could, even when they’d brought on a sense of panic so strong he’d had to put his head between his knees. 

“I know you’ve put a lot of it down here.” Her eyes are a bright, almost disconcerting, green. “But I’d like to hear it from you. Maybe you could tell me what’s most important to you right now.” 

“Oh, okay.” Blaine frowns, tucking his hands between jiggling knees, “I-- there’s a lot of background stuff going on, but I think I wanted to come in… it’s dumb, maybe, but I had a fight with my boyfriend.” 

“Recently?” 

“Well, yeah. I mean, I think it’s resolved. I’m not here about the fight. I’m- it illuminated a lot of things… things I thought I was working out on my own.” He shrugs, unable to make eye contact. “Things I thought I could handle on my own.” 

“And now you don’t know if you can?” 

Blaine takes a deep breath, fortifying and strengthening himself. “I don’t think I can.” 

~*~ 

“Hi.” Kurt’s voice spills warm and bright through Blaine’s phone. “I didn’t think you’d call so soon.” 

“Hi.” Blaine lets his breath out with a rush. He isn’t sure what to say; he’s called because he needs to hear Kurt’s voice. 

“So… can I ask?” Kurt’s hesitation is clear through the small speaker. 

“Of course.” Blaine smiles. “It was fine.” 

“Fine? Good fine or bad fine?” 

“Kurt,” Blaine laughs fondly, “Fine implies good. Not great, but okay...” 

Blaine pulls into the parking lot of his apartment, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder. 

“Blaine.” Kurt obviously hears the sound of his engine shutting off. “Are you driving and talking again?” 

“Shhh.” Blaine shuts the door with his hip. “Let’s not talk about it. You’ll ruin the romance.” 

“What are you talking about?” Kurt is laughing. 

“I have no idea,” Blaine confesses. He unlocks his door to find his apartment a riotous mess, living room full of boys. Blaine wrinkles his nose; it smells like boys, and not in a sexy way. In a sweaty gym socks kind of way. Being into boys isn’t enough to make that smell anything other than gross. Jeff shoots him a smile, and Blaine waves silently at them. 

“What’s going on there?” 

“Um.” Blaine glances at the screen “Some sort of show where people injure themselves being dumb, I think- _Oh!_ ” Blaine closes his eyes. 

“Oh what? Don’t leave me in suspense!” Kurt deadpans. 

“I’ll never be able to unsee that, Kurt. Oh god, he’ll never be the same,” Blaine wails. 

“I don’t want to know do I?” Kurt’s amused. 

“You really don’t.” Blaine ducks into his room, shutting the door on the sounds of cheers and sympathetic laughter. 

“So, other than your obviously riveting television programming, do you have any other exciting plans for the evening?” Kurt’s voice is light and happy. 

“I was- Kurt, did you get the night off?” Blaine bounces onto his toes. 

“Yes!” Kurt squeals. 

“Yay!” Blaine would have been embarrassed, had anyone been around to see the ecstatic dance he does. Luckily, no one is. 

“Oh god, Blaine, did you just say yay?” 

“Shut up.” Blaine is already sorting through his closet. “Let’s go to dinner. Or a movie. Or dinner and a movie.” 

“Okay, slow down there, tiger. It’s three in the afternoon. How about a walk? It’s a beautiful day.” Kurt pauses. “I’ll even let you buy me coffee.” 

Blaine laughs, pulling his dark blue polo off the hanger. “Why do I feel like this walk is really about shopping?” 

“Blaine, Blaine,” Kurt trills, “when will you learn that everything is about shopping?” 

“Oh, well played, sir.” 

~*~ 

“So.” Kurt tilts his head down, sunlight bouncing off of his sunglasses. “Wanna talk?” He gestures toward the door of their favourite coffee shop. 

“That… sounds good.” Blaine shuffles the shopping bags he’s holding for Kurt, following him into the cool coffee shop. “Thank you.” 

Kurt smiles and waves this off, letting the door fall shut behind them. “I’ll get you a drink, if you’ll find us a table?” Kurt’s folding his sunglasses, hooking them into the V of his shirt. Blaine brushes the tip of his index finger across the back of Kurt’s hand when he smiles, then turns to find them a table. 

His eyes track Kurt: the way Kurt’s body sways into the counter he’s leaning against to order, the incredible length of his legs in those fantastic striped pants that drive Blaine crazy, his almost too wide smile -- it’s imperfect but beautiful. 

Kurt comes back to the table, balancing a plate of biscotti over the two coffees in his hands. Blaine can’t help but stare, watching Kurt’s tongue, pink and delicate, caught between his lips as he concentrates on setting the drinks down without upending the plate. 

“These are for you.” Kurt places the biscotti in front of him with a happy flourish. Blaine can feel himself blush a little, ducking his head to hide his sappy smile. 

“You’re too good to me.” He props his chin on a fist, enjoying the easy way Kurt leans back, the flirting rise of his eyebrow. 

“Never,” Kurt corrects, eyes crinkling with his smile. “Just not possible.” 

They fall into a sort of silence; Blaine starts to fidget, breaking his biscotti into smaller pieces. He can feel Kurt watching him, the way he’s waiting for Blaine to speak. 

“It was okay.” 

Kurt hums a little, leaning forward. “You said that before.” His smile is impish; Blaine loves that Kurt knows when to lighten the tone of a conversation for his sake. 

“I’m just not sure -- it was hard to break down into one hour everything that’s happened and what is going on. I wasn’t sure what the important parts were.” Blaine spins the plate over and over while he speaks. Kurt waits patiently through the hesitations. “Or what I’m really meant to be working out. There’s a lot, you know?” 

“I know.” Kurt’s voice is soft with sympathy, his hand soothing over Blaine’s, stilling the nervous movement of his fingers. 

“It kind of feels like a lot of pressure, knowing I only get 10 sessions,” Blaine admits. 

“Speaking of which,” Kurt butts in, “I asked around, and I think you can extend your sessions for a small co-pay, if you feel like you need to.” 

“Oh.” Blaine directs a small smile at the tabletop before looking back up at Kurt. Warmth spreads through him, slow and sweet. “Kurt.” Blaine flips his hand over, palm to palm. “Thank you.” 

When Kurt smiles back, it’s bright like sunshine. 


	14. Chapter 14

“It’s been a long week,” Kurt states, then hums under Blaine’s kneading hands.

“Yes.” Blaine frowns, feeling a particularly stubborn knot just at the cusp of Kurt’s shoulder blade. 

“For both of us.” Kurt shifts a bit under Blaine’s weight, groaning as the knot finally slips away. 

Blaine doesn’t say anything; it _has_ been a long week -- he’d had a difficult essay come due, an upsetting phone call with his father, and a really emotionally draining session with Wendy. 

“Have you spoken to your father since Wednesday?” Kurt asks tentatively. His muscles flex into the weight of Blaine’s hands. Blaine knows Kurt can’t see him, but he shakes his head, then sighs. “Blaine, do you want to talk about it?” 

“No. Thank you, though. I think I’m a little talked out when it comes to this stuff,” Blaine admits. The pads of his fingers trace the beautiful line of Kurt’s curved spine. 

“Okay.” Kurt turns his head to ghost a kiss over Blaine’s knuckles where his hands have come to rest on Kurt’s shoulders. 

~*~ 

_“There’s so much pressure.” Blaine looked toward the corner of the room, shifting slightly. “I feel like I should be getting over these things with Ryan already. I don’t want to keep doing the same things. I’m scared that if I don’t work them out, Kurt will get frustrated or give up.”_

“Is that what you think is going to happen? Do you feel like Kurt is pressuring you?” 

“No,” Blaine responded softly, one finger tracing slowly over his knee. “I know Kurt loves me, but sometimes I feel... I don’t know why. I’m scared to ruin things. And...” He trailed off, biting his lip and blushing. 

“And?’ Wendy asked encouragingly. 

“Can I- This is embarrassing, but can I talk about… you know?” He gestured a little with his hands. 

“Sex?” Wendy guessed with a smile, inviting Blaine to talk further. 

He nodded, feeling his face flushing deep red. 

“There’s some stuff -- things that happened with Ryan. Kurt knows about them, but-” Blaine shrugged, “He’s been working so hard to be careful with me, to talk to me, and I want- I want to give him everything he wants.” 

“What do you think he wants?” 

Blaine feels his eyebrow twitch. “Well...” He clears his throat. “I mean, eventually, um… everything. Doesn’t it work that way? You start doing… some things… and then progress and do others, but eventually there’s only one left.” 

“Hmmm.” Wendy looked thoughtful. “So, sex is linear?” 

Blaine frowned, “What do you mean?” 

“Do you think the progression of intimacy and sex should go in a certain order? Have a certain stopping or ending point?” 

“I don’t know… I mean, I guess so.” Blaine cleared his throat. “Well, no, I mean… some things just… wow, this is really hard to articulate.” 

Wendy laughed. “It might help me get a better picture if you used specific words. But if you don’t feel comfortable specifying, that’s perfectly alright. Would you mind if I use them though?” 

Blaine nodded, avoiding eye contact. 

“Okay then,” Wendy continued carefully. “I think you’re talking about penetrative sex, yes?” 

Blaine sighed, relaxing a bit. “Yes.” 

“And you think that this is the culmination of a progression of sexual acts?” 

“Well,” Blaine stuttered out a nervous laugh, “You make it sound sort of funny when you say it like that. But, yeah. Isn’t that kind of expected?” 

“I don’t know, Blaine.” Wendy paused. “I think that sex can be whatever you want it to be. That it should be. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to or don’t feel comfortable with, ever. There aren’t any rules, other than that it is imperative you only do what you want to, when you want to. There are many couples that never engage in that sort of penetrative sex.” 

“But-” Blaine finally looked her in the eyes. “But what if Kurt wants that to happen eventually?” 

“I’d say that when it comes to your body, what matters most is what you _want, Blaine.”_

~*~ 

“Blaine?” Kurt tries to roll over; Blaine shifts off of him, wan smile on his own face. “Honey, are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” Blaine leans until his forehead is nuzzled into Kurt’s neck, ignoring the awkward angle of his body and the way Kurt sits tilted and propped on one hand. “You’re right; it’s just been a long week.” 

“Anything I can do to help? I feel kind of guilty for being the one who got the backrub, now.” 

“Don’t be silly.” Blaine moves away, kissing the lines between Kurt’s indrawn brows, then down his nose and falling soft on his lips. “I love taking care of you.” 

Kurt’s lips move under his, enticing and wet. Blaine slides down when Kurt presses just so into the kiss, pulling Kurt closer and sighing at the weight of his body, sure and strong, draped over his. This feels like home, like forgetting and healing at the same time -- Kurt’s skin and his smell and the way his touch lights Blaine up from the inside out. 

“I love you taking care of me,” Kurt murmurs against the skin of Blaine’s neck, tongue light and teasing in the hollow behind his ear. “I love taking care of you.” 

“Let’s just agree,” Blaine gasps, “to love taking care of each other.” 

“Okay.” Kurt leans up to smile mischievously. “But right now...” Blaine’s skin quivers when Kurt’s hand moves over the inseam of his pants, dancing over the zipper. “It’s my turn to to the caring.” 

~*~ 

“Kurt?” Blaine surprises himself, breaking from the soft afterglow he’s been basking in. 

“Mmhmmm?” Kurt is dead weight, slumped over Blaine’s body, breaths deep and even in a way that indicates impending sleep. 

“Would you be okay if- if I never want to… you know… do _it_.” Blaine isn’t sure what prompts him to ask; sometimes in these moments with Kurt, he feels cracked open, tender insides exposed. He loves that feeling -- these are the moments when he has no secrets, few boundaries and the most to share with the man he loves. 

“Do what?” Kurt shifts. Although he’s heavy, Blaine misses the weight of Kurt’s lean body grounding him. 

“Um.” Blaine twitches, hand flexing over Kurt’s bicep. He’s trying to think of a way to phrase this without sounding crass. “Receive?” 

“Are we-” Kurt narrows his eyes. “Blaine, are you talking about anal sex?” Kurt clears his throat, obviously embarrassed by the words. 

“If I am?” Blaine asks softly, skirting over the plain phrasing. 

“Blaine.” Kurt’s voice and eyes soft, fingers feather light on his cheek. “Honey.” 

Blaine swallows, feeling tears well up in his eyes, “I just… I don’t want to disappoint you, and I know you said you wanted to try everything with the right person-” 

“Blaine, Blaine,” Kurt interrupts, “That didn’t -- _doesn’t_ \-- mean I have to do those things, or that we do, or that I could ever be disappointed with you. Everything we do is incredible, and I love it so much.” 

“So if I was never okay with it-?” 

“Blaine, I just want to be with you. That’s all.” 

“But...” Blaine tries to explain why he feels so troubled; something nags deep inside his chest that he can’t ignore. “I don’t want to hold you back, or for you to regret not having every experience you want.” 

Kurt’s kiss is sweet but firm, his eyes determined on Blaine’s. 

“Blaine, I want to do many things in my life. Visit Europe, become a famous singer, have my name known, get married. Walk the Great Wall. But you know what?” 

“What?” Blaine’s voice is so much quieter than Kurt’s, insecure and small. 

“I know I won’t get all of those. I might not get most of those. But I’m still going to have an amazing, fulfilled life. I don’t _need_ those to be happy.” 

Blaine lets Kurt’s words sink in, biting his lip, breath tight and close in his chest. He can feel Kurt’s fingers, the lines they draw down his neck and over his collarbones, coming to rest just at his pulse point. He closes his eyes and lets himself really feel his body in the space it is inhabiting: the gentle scritch of his sheets, the damp space between their pressed close limb, the hum of muscles made pliant by pleasure. The thrumming of his heart and blood, determined and ongoing. 

He’s made it through so much. He’s been hurt and left, allowed himself to be used and almost broken, but it doesn’t really matter, because he’s chosen better for himself -- a better life, a better space and, so importantly, a better man to love him. 

For the first time, Blaine really understands what it might be like to let someone love him the way he is, the way he came, lonely and damaged but with an incredible capacity to give. Now he just needs to learn to take, and to forgive himself enough to heal. 

When he opens his eyes, they find Kurt’s, ultramarine and preciously tender, waiting for him. 

“Okay.” 

~*~ 

_“I asked him,” Blaine started without preamble._

“Asked who?” Wendy tried to clarify. 

“Kurt-” Blaine smiled. “I asked him if he’d be happy if we never… progressed to a certain level.” 

“What did he say?” Wendy crossed her legs, watching him carefully. 

“It didn’t even seem to be about whether he wanted to or not- it was more like… I guess like he was telling me that he loved me no matter what we chose to do or not?” 

“Does that surprise you?” Wendy was swiveling a little in her chair, back and forth, fingers fiddling with a pencil. It was kind of distracting, and it reminded him that he needed to fix his own desk chair. 

“I don’t know.” Blaine tried to think about her question. “Yes and no? I should have known- I mean, I do sort of. I think I just have a hard time… integrating what is right in front of me with… what I feel like I deserve?” 

“Hmmm.” 

He barreled on. “I don’t know if that makes any sense. I just- I’ve known from the start that Kurt would wait for me to be ready for anything. Sometimes, I just get so scared… what if something changes? What if he changes his mind? It feels easier sometimes to anticipate that it will.” 

“Are you still talking about sex, Blaine?” 

“Oh.” Blaine looked up, surprised. “Wow. No, I guess not.” 

“Do you think that anticipating being hurt will make it easier if you do get hurt?” Wendy watched him carefully. Blaine tried to breath deeply; her questions were prickling something dark and painful, something amorphous that lived without words to define and crystalize them. 

“I...” Blaine shrugged, watching his fingers tangle and untangle. It was hard, a big risk and a revelation he wasn’t even sure he was ready to admit to himself. “I think I believe that I will get hurt.” 

“By Kurt?” Her voice was soft, understanding. Blaine brushed absently at tears. 

“By everyone.” 

~*~ 

Blaine doesn’t quite know where he’s going when he leaves his appointment, only that he isn’t ready to go home. Instead, he drives. He turns the music up, singing loudly to overplayed, and somehow comforting, pop music. After a while, he forces himself to relax his hands, which are white-knuckle gripping the wheel so that his joints ache from the stress. 

There is pressure -- so much pressure -- building in his chest and head. It feels like a stone, crushing his breath and making him tremble. Only it isn’t a stone, he realizes; it’s something inside, something held in and close, hot in his chest and unfurling with every movement of his lungs and heart. 

Blaine pulls over, parking the car, shattering through the block of air in his chest, trying, trying and trying to breathe through the sudden and wracking sobs. 

He’s never in his life cried like he does in this moment. Cries through memories of longing for attention from his parents -- the memory of his 12th birthday, trying to hard not to break down when he came home to a store-bought cake and a hasty note from his mother. Wishing so hard that he’d see their faces in the audience at every competition and trying to ignore the ache their absence left behind. 

Blaine cries until he thinks something might break, that something _is_ breaking because it _hurts_ , thinking of the years wasted letting Ryan hurt him. Clenching his fingers into ineffectual fists, Blaine cries through the dirtiest memories held secret and shameful in the recess of his heart -- Ryan’s hands and body taking him, taking his choices and self respect. 

With his head on the steering wheel and body spent, absolutely exhausted with the sudden torrent of emotion, Blaine tries again. 

Breathes in and pushes back into the pain; but it won’t go. 

Breathes again and tries somehow to bind everything back where it had been, to find a way to cobble himself back together. But it won’t work. 

Breathes again and again, until he realizes that this is the problem. For years, Blaine has breathed and pushed and pulled and swallowed. Done this so much, so often, that now he’s overfull, saturated with pain. 

So instead of breathing in, Blaine breathes out. He exhales and lets everything go with it. Lets himself feel everything without judgement, without expectation that it has to go away. 

It doesn’t happen right away. In fact, that day it doesn’t happen at all. But the hope that it will starts to settle under his skin, just a little. 

For the first time in his life, Blaine breathes out and asks himself, somehow, to try and learn to surrender to the very real things that have happened in his life. To surrender and someday learn to accept them. They’ve happened; he’ll never be able to change that. 

When he fumbles for his phone, it’s with fingers shaking so badly he can hardly press the number for Kurt’s speed dial. Raw and stripped, Blaine is more vulnerable than he’s ever felt himself before. Before he presses the call button, he feels the bottom of his stomach fall out with anxiety and fear. 

Before Wendy and his sudden foray into the tangled mess of his emotions, Blaine was sure he’d never have called Kurt in this state. But the realization that he’s never trusted anyone -- not deeply and surely -- has woken him up. 

If there is anything Blaine want to be sure of, it is Kurt. And the only way to really do that is to let him in to the worst and most frightening moments; the ones where he is at his lowest and most vulnerable. 

He presses the button. 

~*~ 

“Kurt?” 

“Blaine, what’s wrong?” Even through the phone he can hear the panic and concern. He tries to rein in his tears, the way his breath shakes until it feels like he’s coming apart, plates shifting and moving with seismic intensity. 

“Can you-” He swallows down a sob. “Can you come get me? I- I don’t think-” Tripping over his words, Blaine inhales deeply, biting down and trying to get through this moment. “I don’t think I can drive.” 

“Where are you?” Kurt is gathering his keys; Blaine hears them tinkle and then the clang of the door being slammed shut. Quickly, he stutters out the address. “I’ll be there in a few seconds. Honey, can you stay on the phone with me?” 

But Blaine can feel his face crumpling; he‘s overwhelmed and exhausted, and there is nothing he can say, nothing he wants other than to feel Kurt wrapped around him. To find the safe harbor and refuge of Kurt’s smell and muscles and skin. 

“I can’t,” Blaine starts. 

“You don’t have to talk, but, please,” Kurt begs, “Please just stay on the line with me, okay?” 

So Blaine does. Tilting to the side, he presses his cheek against the cool window, leaving tears smeared against the glass. Hulled and scraped tender, he feels his breath evening in time to Kurt’s. He doesn’t know if it is the emotions ebbing and sliding out of his body, or the comfort of Kurt’s presence, even through the distance of the phone’s speaker. Either way, slowly, he feels the panic and fear, the overwhelming tidal crush of sadness, seeping out. 

By the time Kurt collects him, literally, pulling his tired arms and slumped body into a warm embrace, Blaine is completely spent. He literally can’t find the energy to bring his arms up and around Kurt, and it’s all he can muster to turn his head, tucking it into Kurt’s neck. They don’t speak. After a while, Blaine’s fingers managed to unfurl, petals reluctant to trust the warmth of summer after a false spring. 

Over his back are Kurt’s wide hands, soothing with the barest pressure. Blaine closes his eyes and concentrates on breathing in for three beats and then out. 

He isn’t sure later if it is Kurt’s presence or his own strength that manage to put him back together for that moment; packing himself back into a body threatening to spin out of its confines, but, either way, he manages. 

~*~ 

Kurt drives home, hand gripping tight and steady in Blaine’s. The silence feels welcoming; there is no pressure of expectation to fill. 

Blaine is sure that even if there had been, he wouldn’t have wanted to fill it. His head is stuffed, and his eyes ache. Behind Kurt, he shuffles into his apartment, still holding onto the tether of Kurt’s fingers, walking past Jeff without speaking. 

He lets Kurt untie his shoes, stepping out when he applies the smallest touch to the back of each knee. Watching Kurt rise, the sweep of his hair and the slope of his nose, Blaine feels something huge begin to build, love so honest and deep it rises without warning. Everything is so close to the surface; he has no mastery over his own emotions. When Kurt’s fingers slip against the line of his arm, pulling his button-down shirt off so that he’s left in an undershirt, Blaine eyes begin to well up again. 

Somehow, Kurt _understands_. He doesn’t pause when he divests Blaine of his jeans, then, carefully and with loving hands, presses Blaine into the bed and under the sheets. Instead of speaking or trying to coax Blaine into talking, he nestles into the silence with him. He spoons around Blaine’s body, fingers sure against the rise of his cheekbones, wiping away the tears that come, one by one. 


	15. Chapter 15

Kurt watches the dark lighten imperceptibly as dawn approaches. Through the deepest hours of the night he’s kept his body aligned with Blaine’s, knees slipped behind Blaine’s, hand splayed wide over the expanding and contracting rhythm of Blaine’s breath.

For the first hour, Kurt tries to breathe with Blaine, hoping that his own breath, steady and slow, might ease Blaine’s, but it doesn’t. Even in sleep, Blaine’s breathing still hitches and rolls, catching and releasing. Kurt’s tempted to use his fingers and palms to soothe, smoothing them over Blaine’s arms and hair, but he doesn’t want to do anything that might wake Blaine from sleep. 

After that first hour, Kurt stops trying to breathe for Blaine, when he realizes that he’s been trying and working so hard to breathe for him all along. 

There’d been a night, when Blaine had still been with Ryan, when he’d held Blaine in much the same way, trying to hold him together when it seemed his body might shake apart with the force of his tear. That night, he’d made the first promise of many: that he had room for Blaine when no one else seemed to. 

Kurt had loved Blaine then, yes, but not like he does now. He has more than just room for Blaine. He has a whole life to share. 

He realizes, holding Blaine and ignoring his own tears, stealthy slow as they drip down his cheek and off of his nose, that he has so much to give Blaine, but peace is not one of them. 

It’s a relief to finally realize this. Understanding that he will love Blaine, always. That he’ll hold Blaine whenever Blaine needs it, help him and support him. But he doesn’t need to fix him, and can’t. 

Blaine’s heartbreak is like the night sky; unfathomably big and beyond Kurt’s grasp. It isn’t possible for him to shoulder Blaine’s problems alone. Wendy, Jeff, himself -- they are all a part of a support system Blaine is building, that he needs. Kurt has been telling himself for a while now that he can’t fix Blaine, but in this night, feeling the tremors running through Blaine’s sleeping body, Kurt sees that he’s still been trying, regardless. 

Kurt swallows the little spark of guilt; feeling lighter and freer seems wrong when juxtaposed with Blaine’s breakdown. 

_I’ll be better for him now_ , Kurt tells himself. All of them are helping to give Blaine the tools he needs to be healthier and happier -- showing him through action and deed, with words. Kurt doesn’t need to fix anything; he needs to support Blaine’s growth with understanding and encouragement. The only way for Blaine to really heal, Kurt knows, is if he does it himself. 

Kurt watches the sky begin to lighten over Blaine’s shoulder. Soon enough, Blaine will wake up. There are so many things that can or might happen, ways that Blaine might react or feel. It’s exhausting to try to think of them all, to try to plan for each contingency and what he should say or do in each scenario. 

So, new plan. It’s simple. 

Be here, in any way that Blaine needs. The end. 

~*~ 

He’s been holding Blaine for so long his arm is tingling from the lack of movement. Kurt’s shoulder is cramped, and his legs are itching to stretch. When the pattern of Blaine’s breathing begins to change, the muscles of his body beginning to flex into awareness, Kurt lets out a long sigh of gratitude. 

“Hey.” Blaine doesn’t move to roll over or shift in Kurt’s arms. His voice is subdued. 

“Hold on.” Kurt smiles and kisses Blaine’s neck lightly, then stretches every part of his body he can all at once, groaning loudly with pleasure. “Oh thank god,” he breathes, then buries his nose in the short hair at the back of Blaine’s neck, inhaling his warm Blaine smell. “Hi.” 

Finally, Blaine shifts, rolling over to face Kurt, avoiding his gaze. Kurt can tell from each line of his expression that he’s embarrassed. 

Kurt curls closer into the cocoon of their embrace, faces so close their noses are almost touching. They don’t speak for a long time, Kurt reminding himself that his job is just to be there for Blaine, not to try to fix him. And so he stays quiet, waiting for Blaine to tell him what he needs. 

“So.” Blaine clears his throat. “On a scale of one to ten, how embarrassed should I be about last night?” 

“Negative fifty seven,” Kurt responds automatically, rewarded when his words catch Blaine off-guard, making him laugh quietly. 

Blaine’s hand is sticky warm on his ribs; it’s cool in the room but overwarm where their bodies are tightly pressed under the covers. Kurt bites back so many things he wants to say -- _What do you need? What happened? Are you alright?_ among them. Instead, he digs his fingers into the meaty curve of Blaine’s shoulder and smiles a little into his eyes. 

“I’m here,” he says, voice low. Blaine’s eyes close delicately, then open, too bright in the watery dawn. He nods, and they settle closer into the silence and each other. 

“Don’t you want to know what happened?” Blaine finally asks. 

“Only if you want to tell me.” Kurt works to keep his voice low and comforting, tracing his finger around the curve of Blaine’s ear. Blaine darts a look up, then bites his lip. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you -- I do. I just-” 

“Blaine, you can take your time, if you need it. If you want to talk, I’ll always be here to listen. But you don’t have to.” 

Blaine sighs, reaching up to grab Kurt’s hand and tangle their fingers together. 

“Okay.” He kisses Kurt’s knuckles. “I’d ask if we can just lie here, but-” On perfect cue, Kurt hears the rumbling of Blaine’s empty stomach and laughs. 

“I’ll make you breakfast in bed,” Kurt offers, sitting up and extracting himself from the warm knot of arms and legs they’ve created. 

“You don’t mind?” Blaine moves to sit up, too; Kurt gently pushes him down. 

“Never.” He kisses Blaine softly, sliding his lips over Blaine’s as gently as he can, then leans back a bit, eyes wide open. “Anything for you.” 

~*~ 

They eat together in comfortable silence. Kurt is tired; he’d not really slept at all the night before. Blaine seems to be in the semi-boneless sort of state that comes in the wake of an emotional purge, so Kurt feeds bits of pancake to Blaine; they giggle over crumbs, and when Blaine reaches up to collect a drop of strawberry juice from his lip, Kurt’s heart is so full he wonders how there is room for anything else. 

“Here.” Kurt stacks the dishes and the tray on the floor, then scoots down to lay his head on Blaine’s stomach. “Too lazy to move.” Under his cheek, Blaine’s happy trail feels soft, familiar. 

“Hmmm.” Blaine starts to run his fingers through Kurt’s hair, humming again when Kurt traces meaningless patterns on the fine, stretched skin of his hipbone. There’s nothing overtly sexual about the moment; it’s sensual and intimate but without the need or urgency for more. 

Kurt jumps at the knock on the door; he wasn’t aware he’d started to drift off. 

“Yeah?” Blaine calls, and Kurt shifts the covers over his body. The door cracks open, and Jeff pops his head in. 

“Oh my god, you guys! I found the most amazing thing. You guys have to come see!” Even with only Jeff’s head in the door, Kurt can see him vibrating with excitement. 

“Jeff,” Blaine huffs, exasperated, while Kurt tries to stifle a giggle. “Dude-” 

“Whatever, man, you guys spend like 80% of your time naked in there! Put some clothes on and come hang out. I swear this will be so worth it.” 

“Jeff!” Blaine exclaims. Kurt ducks beneath the covers to hide his red face. They don’t spend _that_ much time having sex, do they? 

Only, now that Kurt stops to think about it… pretty much every minute they have with each other when they aren’t on a date or meeting for coffee is spent in Blaine’s room. Getting naked. 

_Oh god, that’s what everyone thinks of us._ Kurt closes his eyes, hoping the bed will somehow envelop him in sweet oblivion. 

“Okay, seriously, you guys will be so thankful, I promise.” Jeff leaves with a slammed door that shakes the thin walls, leaving them in red-faced mortification. 

~*~ 

“Hungry Hungry Hippos?” Kurt’s tone is two parts dry condescension and one part curiosity. 

“Oh _wow_ , Jeff.” Blaine picks up the box with what Kurt can only describe as childlike wonder and glee. Kurt _tries_ to contain the look he gives Blaine but cannot seem to school his face. His _who the hell are you and what are you even **doing**_ , face. 

“I can’t believe this, I haven’t seen this since I was a kid!” 

_Oh my god_ , Kurt thinks, watching Blaine hop with excitement. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Jeff and Blaine were 13-year-old girls. 

“Oh my god.” He simply can’t hold it in any more. “What is _wrong_ with you guys? It’s a _game_. It doesn’t even look like a _fun_ game.” 

“What?” Jeff looks stunned. 

“Haven’t you ever played?” Blaine looks wounded. 

“No, I can’t say that I’ve ever had the pleasure.” Kurt tries his best to look haughty, tilting his chin. 

“ _Oh yeah_ , baby. It is so on.” Jeff fist pumps once, then shoulder bumps Blaine, who laughs. “Tonight. 8 p.m. Be here. We’re gonna do some shots, and then we are _so_ gonna play.” 

Kurt sighs, twitching his shoulder. 

“Come on, Kurt,” Jeff winks. “Let us show you the way.” 

~*~ 

It turns out that Hungry Hungry Hippos _is_ a lot of fun. Especially when you’re drunk and playing with Blaine, who manages to turn _everything_ into a competition. And it’s just so fun, beating Blaine. He pouts and gets cranky and does this cute thing where he tries to redouble his efforts, and they’re all so far past tipsy that Blaine can’t even manage his hippo’s lever properly. Contrary to his claims, it does not stick; Kurt even checked. 

Kurt’s not even sure when the last time was that he laughed this hard -- mouth wide and teeth exposed, sides aching. He’s laughing so hard he falls over, watching Blaine scramble for the marbles he’d knocked off the board; he’d been hitting his lever so hard half the marbles had gone flying, one pegging Nick right in the eye. 

When they fall into bed that night, still giggling and skin sweat-dampened from alcohol and exertion, it’s not the perfect ending. With only the space of a day between Blaine and the things he’s revealed to himself, Kurt doesn’t fool himself into thinking that anything has really changed. 

“God, thank you.” Blaine’s whisper is sticky against Kurt’s ear. 

“For what?” Kurt snuggles deeper into his pillow, pulling Blaine as close as he can. 

“This was- tonight.” Blaine’s fingers trace up the long line between Kurt’s ribs, soft enough to tickle. Kurt squirms a bit. “I really needed this. Fun and just, _god_ , a break, you know?” 

When he sighs again, Kurt feels Blaine’s whole body relaxing, heavy against his. 

Well, maybe it’s not perfect, but apparently, for Blaine, it’s just right. It’s a start. 

~*~ 

“So… yeah.” Blaine shrugs miserably, avoiding Wendy’s eyes. He’s been rambling incoherently for 10 minutes straight. For some reason, he’s had the hardest time connecting his brain to any specific thoughts. Everything feels too close to the surface but somehow just beyond his grip. His brain feels tired and foggy. 

“I’m sorry.” Blaine tries to smile congenially at Wendy. “I’m wasting your time today aren’t I?” 

Wendy smiles. She’s wearing terrific shoes today, teal and brown argyle heels. He’d noticed them when he walked in behind her because he’s never seen anything like them before. She’s jiggling her foot a little now, which keeps drawing his eye. “You aren’t wasting anyone’s time, Blaine. You’re here. That’s the most important part.” 

“Okay.” Blaine tries to breathe in deeply, attempts to muddle through his own brain and the tangle of exhaustion and anxiety in his chest. 

“I think I’m having trouble because I’m scared to show how I feel.” 

“With me right now, or in general?” Wendy tries to clarify. 

“Both?” Blaine hears the question in his own tone and tries again. “I’ve always been afraid, I guess. I don’t know. Lately, and right now, I mean- I… it’s like a literal block. I don’t even want to let myself know how I’m feeling. To put names on the feelings.” 

“Why do you think that is?” she prompts quietly. 

“If I name them, then you guys will know.” Blaine’s eyes are closed; he’s trying to let himself be as open as possible, answering from instinct. 

“And if we know?” 

“Then you know how to hurt me.” 

There’s a long pause there; Blaine wonders if it’s Wendy letting him process what he’s said or if she’s processing it. 

“This is kind of where we left off last week, isn’t it?” she asks. 

Blaine starts laughing; Wendy’s answering smile is curious. He waves a hand, dropping his head back against the black leather of the arm chair he’s curled up in. 

“I can be pretty obtuse sometimes.” 

Wendy skirts over that, examining him. 

“I guess… I mean, if people don’t know how to hurt me, they can’t, can they?” Blaine spreads his fingers, palms up. 

“And you think that they will,” she states, referring to their last session. 

“Well, I mean, they have,” Blaine defends himself. He’s not sure where he’s going or where she’s going, but decides to go with it. If his thought process was clearer, he probably wouldn’t need therapy in the first place. 

“So… you don’t want to show people how you feel because they might hurt you, but people have hurt you anyway?” 

“Well, when you say it like that-” Blaine tries. “Yes… I mean, no. I mean- I’m not just talking about people hurting me exactly. More like… feeling vulnerable. Even though I know, for example, that Kurt would never hurt me, it’s still so hard to show him or tell him what I want.” He thinks of New York, of the apartment he dreams every night they might share. Secrets he keeps because he’s so afraid to ask, so afraid to be let down. 

“Can you tell me a little more about that?” Wendy asks. 

Blaine thinks through his answer; as his words clear through the fog of his brain, it’s like something clicking inside, a lock tumbling open. “If I tell someone what I want, I’m letting them see something I need. If they know what I need, they can use it against me, or deny me. And it’s easier just not to say anything, because then it doesn’t hurt as much.” 

“As it does when they’d inevitably let you down?” Wendy finishes. 

Blaine fiddles with his cuticles. “Wow.” He shakes his head. It’s like she’s reading his mind, which is a little uncomfortable. 

“Do you see, though,” Wendy continues, “how you’re setting your expectations so low -- you ‘know’ they’ll hurt you anyway, so you don’t let yourself expect -- but you’re still hurting in the end?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You do this to protect yourself, you’ve said, because it hurts to let yourself want or expect something and be let down. It’s like you’re saying to yourself, ‘Oh, well, they are going to do it anyway’, as if that will stop it from hurting. Only, is it really stopping you from hurting, Blaine?” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t understand, though. I mean… why do I do this with Kurt, too? In my head, I know he wouldn’t-” 

“Well, you know, there could be a few things at work there. First of all, let me say, you’re a very smart young man. You’re here in part because you recognize that what you’ve been doing and how you’ve been operating isn’t working for you anymore. Only you don’t know how to connect that to the places where you feel things.” Wendy taps her chest. “We’re working on creating a sort of feedback loop, where you can connect what you think and know with what you feel.” 

“So it’s not that I don’t trust Kurt, it’s that I’m scared to feel vulnerable. Because even though I know, in my head, that it’s okay, in my heart-” Blaine clears his throat. “In my heart, I have this old system running that’s telling me that everyone is going to let me down anyway.” 

“And what we’re doing here is connecting what you know-” she taps her temple, “with what you feel.” 

Blaine thinks about her words. Wonders if he can do this, learn to recognize the moments when he’s afraid to make himself vulnerable, and then start working on them, stretching into his new self, testing and growing. Blaine knows he’s not in therapy in the interest of maintaining the status-quo. He’s here to make his life _better_. He hasn’t deluded himself into thinking that it won’t be hard -- painfully, achingly hard -- and scary and, sometimes, impossible. But he wants that better life. 

Kurt’s been so much a part of his steps toward a better life. And that new skin he’s growing, filling into? He doesn’t have to do it all at once, but maybe he can try, with Kurt. Because Kurt is safe. 

“It will be scary,” he whispers to himself, “but so worth it.”


	16. Chapter 16

"Wow." Kurt stares at Blaine, wide-eyed. "You look amazing." They stand awkwardly in the doorway of Blaine’s apartment, taking each other in. Kurt’s wearing impossibly tight white pants that Blaine has never seen before, paired with a soft, loosely woven summer sweater in deep red; he looks gorgeous, heart-stopping.

“You-” Blaine gulps, “God, Kurt. You, too.” 

They stare at each other until Blaine breaks the silence, smiling shyly and leaning in for Kurt’s kiss, accepting the bouquet of calla lilies at the same time. 

"Kurt.” His stomach is swooping with love and warmth; Blaine tries to infuse every ounce of love and wonder he feels into Kurt’s name. There’s nothing more he can really say. _I love you_ feels pale compared to the rush of emotion flooding his heart. “Do you want to come in for a minute?" 

He holds the door open for Kurt, who shrugs. 

"Are you ready to go?" Kurt asks. 

Blaine nods. "Yeah, just need my shoes. And to set these in water." 

Kurt steps in, leaving the door open and smiling when Blaine comes back, slipping into his shoes. 

"I meant it, you know,” Kurt continues. You look wonderful." Blaine blushes; Kurt fingers are soft where they skim his bare arm. "So, where do you want to go?" 

"I don't know, wherever you want to go." Blaine closes the door, locking it carefully. No one else is home -- both Nick and Jeff are at some party. 

"I want you to pick," Kurt insists. "I'm taking you out; I want to know what _you_ want.” 

"Oh, um..." Blaine struggles to think. He hates choosing. He always worries about what happens if he picked a place Kurt hates. So often, Blaine goes along with what other people want that he forgets that Kurt isn't like that. If Kurt really didn't want to go somewhere, he'd speak up. "Can we -- let’s go to Damien's." 

Kurt's smile lights up his face. "Damien's it is." 

~*~ 

Blaine looks over the menu quickly. He knows what he wants, for once, before they've even sat down. He loves this restaurant; it's small and homey, but with excellent food. It's pricy, but he loves their miso-glazed grilled salmon. Kurt orders a salad, complicating the order by subtracting the cheese and asking for pine nuts, which makes Blaine smile. Kurt is very specific and careful about his food. Blaine loves that about him. He especially loves when Kurt gives in, eating something unhealthy and fattening, loves Kurt's imperfections and weakness for cheesecake. 

"I'm paying, by the way." Kurt's foot bumps his under the table. 

"Kurt." Blaine tries to keep the censure from his voice. Kurt works so hard for his money. Blaine can't outright refuse to let him pay; it makes Kurt prickly. Kurt's told him before that he likes to keep things balanced, even though they both know that Blaine has his father’s credit card to use. It still worries Blaine. Kurt has more expenses than he does to juggle -- rent and food and clothing. Student loans to pay for schooling. If he'd known Kurt was going to pay, he would have ordered something else. 

"Bla-aine." Kurt leans on the second half of his name, making it sound like two syllables. His eyes are lit with mischief. His foot runs up Blaine's calf, and he smiles impishly. Blaine works not to notice how pink and full Kurt's lips are. It's totally not the place for that sort of thing. He tries to tamp down the guilt for ordering something expensive. Kurt sighs. "Look, if I'd said something before, I know you would have ordered something else. I just want to take my boyfriend out to dinner, okay?" 

Blaine lets his fingers tangle in Kurt's when he reaches across the table. He swallows and tries to smile. 

"Okay." 

~*~ 

"Tell me what you want." Kurt's whisper is panted against Blaine's ear. They'd barely made it into Blaine's apartment before Blaine had pushed Kurt against the door, attacking his mouth and pulling him sharply against his body by the hips. 

"You." Blaine breaks away to bite Kurt's neck. Kurt shudders against him, pushing so that they can stumble together toward Blaine's room. The apartment is dark and still around them, making their frantic kisses and rushed breath sound louder. "I want you." 

He slams his door behind him, watching as Kurt unlaces his boots with unsteady fingers. His own shoes have come off as they traversed the apartment. As soon as Kurt's boots are off, he's pulling Kurt onto the bed on top of him. He swallows a groan when he feels Kurt's body, hard and sexy and _his_ , all over him. 

But Kurt pulls away when Blaine tilts up for a kiss. He plants his elbows next to Blaine's head, turning to avoid Blaine's lips. His teeth dig into Blaine's ear. 

"Tell me what you want, Blaine." His whisper leaves no room for argument. "I want to know. I want to hear." 

Blaine closes his eyes, wondering what Kurt wants from him. It's so much easier when they just fall into this, fall into each other. Kurt keeps avoiding his kisses, holding his body up and away from Blaine's. 

"I- I want you naked." Blaine stutters into the dark. He gasps when Kurt bites down on his lip. "I want to see you." Kurt moves away briefly, flipping on his nightstand light. Pale yellow washes through the room. Kurt's lips are red, his eyes slanted and heavy, watching Blaine's face. Blaine reaches a hand up, running a thumb over Kurt's cheek. 

When Kurt sits up, Blaine puts a hand out to stop him. Kurt's fingers hover over the button he's been undoing. 

"I… can I do it?" Blaine asks. Kurt stares at him, tongue darting out to wet his lip; Blaine closes his eyes and breathes out. 

"Is that what you want?" Kurt's voice is low, seductive and curious. Blaine leans back on his heels, assessing Kurt. There's nothing Blaine wants more than to give Kurt everything he desires. Right now, it seems, Kurt wants this. 

"Yes." His voice is steadier, gaining confidence. "I want to take your clothes off." Blaine is already working at Kurt's buttons, peeling his shirt off. The more skin he exposes, the further it fuels Blaine. "I want to kiss every inch of this gorgeous skin." 

Blaine's lips catch and drag as he moves them over Kurt's arms. He feels bold and electric, coming to life when Kurt moans,"tell me." 

The more he says, the more turned on Kurt seems to get. Blaine feels like his skin is on fire by the time he has Kurt stripped and panting on the bed. It's heady and sexy, him fully clothed while Kurt lies down, completely naked, letting Blaine touch and lick anything and everything he wants to, between his ribs and the outside edge of muscle where his arm gives way to his chest. He samples every part of Kurt he can; traces the fine edge of his nails when he kisses over his fingers, tastes the complex bouquet between his legs, where Kurt is his most essential, the skin of his balls soft and pliable in his mouth. Blaine closes his eyes, inhaling when he rests his cheek against the sharp jut of Kurt's hipbone. Kurt's fingers trail against his shoulders. 

"More." His voice is shaky but commanding. Blaine pulls his own shirt off, moving fast. 

"I want to feel your skin against mine. God, Kurt, you are-" He drags his pants and boxers off with trembling hands. "You are so fucking hot." Blaine stretches out, biting one lip and trying to control his breathing as his skin slides against Kurt's. Kurt melts into his kiss, mouth opening easily, body rolling towards Blaine's as their lips move in sync. 

Blaine's heart is pounding so hard. It's silly really, how naked and exposed he feels. So much more than usual. Telling Kurt, exposing his needs, feels so much more intimate than they've ever been before. Kurt is silent, pulling back to look into Blaine's eyes. He doesn't have to speak to encourage Blaine. Blaine gathers his courage, skimming his fingers over Kurt's side slowly, then down. 

"I want to touch you, everywhere," Blaine says, so quietly it's almost lost to the sound of Kurt's ragged breathing. “Taste you.” He groans, dragging his hand over Kurt's thigh, blood and skin throbbing; Kurt opens his legs easily, trusting his body to Blaine without hesitation. Blaine’s eyes are on Kurt’s; he keeps his gaze steady when he bring his hand up to lick his fingers carefully. And when he touches Kurt’s hole, his stomach and cock and balls tighten so hard it hurts. Kurt’s pupils dilate, and his breathing, _god_ , it’s so ragged and desperate. 

Under his fingers, Kurt is tight and puckered beautifully. It’s not the first time he’s touched Kurt like this, but it _feels_ like it is, somehow. Blaine leans forward, spit-slick finger circling and teasing Kurt; his lips on Kurt’s are a ghost of a kiss. He smiles when he leans back before sliding down, kissing down Kurt’s sternum and stomach and then pausing between Kurt’s legs. 

“Kurt, I want-” he breaks off, presses the tip of his index finger harder against Kurt’s hole; Kurt closes his eyes when he moans, nodding. 

Blaine has never done this; he never wanted to before -- it had always seemed dirty, thinking of doing this with Ryan. But nothing is dirty with Kurt. Giving Kurt pleasure, enjoying his body and their intimacy; it’s nothing but good. 

Carefully, Blaine moves Kurt’s legs farther apart, uses his fingers to spread Kurt’s cheeks and then just _looks_. There’s not a spot on Kurt’s body that isn’t perfect, not one, and the fact that he knows that thrills through Blaine, shivers like fire just under the edge of his skin. 

“Blaine.” Kurt breathes his name like asking and desperation, and Blaine can’t stop himself from kissing the most tender skin of Kurt’s thigh, then, so very gently, his hole. Kurt’s indrawn breath only makes him want it more, so he licks softly. He uses tiny, teasing licks, gauging Kurt’s reactions. When Kurt cries out, hands finding Blaine’s head and urging him closer carefully, Blaine smiles. 

Encouraged, Blaine presses forward, sealing a kiss over the tight ring, sucking softly. His tongue probes just a bit harder, long, sure licks from Kurt’s twitching balls and down over his hole, coming back to press and press in, just a little. He slides his thumbs closer, teasing the edges, spreading and pushing until his tongue finally works its way in. There’s spit everywhere -- on Blaine’s face and running down Kurt’s crack -- and it’s the hottest thing, the _absolute_ hottest thing Blaine’s ever done. 

“Oh my god, Blaine,” Kurt whimpers, hips rolling and fingers scratching against his scalp. Blaine pulls back, rests his head against Kurt’s thigh, and smiles up at his boyfriend. Kurt is taking deep, shuddering breaths, calming himself. 

“What now, Blaine?” His voice is shaking. ”What do you want now?” 

“Kurt.” Blaine closes his eyes when he groans, kissing Kurt’s leg and hip and beautifully hard cock. “Lube, please.” 

They fall into silence as Blaine coats his fingers, working them one at a time into Kurt carefully. Kurt's hips rock in rhythm with Blaine's hand, moaning and grasping Blaine's shoulders with steady palms. He opens his eyes, dark and intense blue, watching when Blaine licks his lips. He moves, propping himself on one arm so that his face is hovering just above Kurt’s. 

Blaine's fingers are hot inside him, and it’s so intense but he still wants _more_. Wants to feel Kurt wrapped so tight around his cock, to know what it might be like to press and rock in, Kurt’s body pulsing and scorching. Blaine wants so badly to bury himself inside Kurt, to be closer and closer, crawling under Kurt's skin. He wants to stay there, come to rest inside Kurt, and see what color his eyes are when they're together like that. He leans his forehead against Kurt's collar bone, biting back a bone deep desire. 

Undone, feeling stripped and needy, Blaine tucks his face into Kurt’s neck. His chest aches, and his eyes burn with tears he tries so hard to keep at bay. He loves and wants and needs this boy with a desperation that splits him, unmasks and exposes him. 

"No, no." Kurt's voice is broken when he pulls Blaine's face up, "Talk to me; tell me." His hands cup Blaine's face. "Tell me what you want. I want to know. I want to know everything. I’ll give you anything." Blaine pushes his cheek into Kurt's palm. He'll give Kurt anything right now, too, _anything_. And right now, Kurt wants his honesty. 

"I- I want," he gasps when he feels Kurt's muscles clenching around his fingers, "I want to be inside you. I mean- not just my fingers, but _me_.” He closes his eyes, silence thrumming around them. Kurt rocks against his fingers hard. 

"Yes, okay." Blaine opens his eyes. Kurt's face is open and wanting, body still fucking itself down onto Blaine’s fingers. "I want you inside me, too." 

There's a pause as they shuffle; Blaine doesn't want to move far enough to take his fingers out, and Kurt's laughing at him, gently, and easing away. Blaine’s shaking, watching Kurt search through his dresser, skin white and stretched smooth over his exposed flank. 

"Are you sure?" Blaine asks when Kurt hands him a condom. Kurt's fingers find his, squeezing so hard it hurts. This is a first for both of them; it feels huge, so important, and Blaine wants to remember everything about this moment. 

"God, Blaine." Kurt's body strains toward his. "I am so, _so_ sure." 

Their fingers shake; Kurt helps him with the condom, and Blaine feels every place Kurt touches him with electric shocks and fissures of pleasure that strike through him until he's moaning. He has a moment of doubt when Kurt moves to lie back -- a pang of uncertainty, remembering what it was like for him the first time. How scared he'd been, afraid of the pain, unsure of what he was doing. 

"Are you- I- I don't want to hurt you," he stutters out. Kurt moves his hips a little, reaching to touch Blaine, guiding his cock until they’re lined up. 

"I want to do this." His eyes are steady on Blaine's. "I trust you." 

Blaine barely nods, replacing Kurt's hand with his as he starts to push in. He has to press harder than he’d anticipated; he waits a moment, then adds more pressure until Kurt’s body opens to his. When his cock eases in, Blaine’s shocked gasp is lost to Kurt's -- Kurt's back arches a little, and his knees spread. Blaine moves slowly, so slowly, scared to hurt him but also stunned by the white-hot heat of Kurt's body around him. Kurt is so tight Blaine can feel his heartbeat around him. 

"Oh my god," Blaine says, stilling once he's as deep as he can go. “Are you al right?” 

Kurt nods a little, voice breathy. "Oh my _god_ , Blaine, yes." 

Blaine moves onto his elbows, bringing his face closer to Kurt's, his body somehow going deeper inside. Kurt's hands are running over him, racing over his sides and down his arms. "Oh god, Blaine I love you so much." Kurt's eyelids are trembling, his body moving almost imperceptibly against his. Blaine nods; everything is so close, just under the surface of his skin, and he can't even think, much less speak. Kurt is a wreck, sweating and red-faced and babbling. 

"Blaine, _Blaine_ , tell me, show me. I love you. Please, please, tell me." 

Blaine shudders and rolls his hips, moaning when he feels Kurt clenching around him. He stills, and Kurt moves against him slowly. They take turns, moving like molasses against each other. Everything throbs and trembles. 

"Tell me," Kurt says, voice stronger as he moves his hips again, harder. Blaine groans and presses his face into Kurt's neck. 

"I want you,” he whispers into Kurt's ear. 

"More, tell me more." 

"Wanna be inside you, always. Want to be with you." Kurt's hands are on his cheeks again, eyes boring into Blaine's. His heart beats so fast it feels like it could break against his ribs. Kurt is looking at him, into him, deeper than anyone ever has, splitting his skin. He's exposed and naked and _inside_ Kurt. 

Blaine blinks, then moves, and Kurt moves, and he can't help but whimper a little as Kurt bucks against him faster. It's on the tip of his tongue, _I want you forever_ , but he bites it back. Kurt is shaking his head, shaking and pulling against him, and Blaine stops moving. 

"What, what?" His hand grips Kurt's shoulder, "Did I hurt you?" 

Kurt shakes his head, leaning up to whisper, "Tell me, _please_." 

Blaine closes his eyes. "Tell you what?" he stalls. He leans his forehead against Kurt's. Kurt’s fingers pull his hair. 

"Tell me, Blaine,” he demands. Blaine is panting, unable to stop his hips from roiling, moving into Kurt further and deeper. It just feels so good, too good, being inside Kurt. He can't help himself. 

"I want you, Kurt. I want to be with you, want to live with you, never want to be without you." He's moving faster, pushing into Kurt, who is rising to meet his thrusts. 

"Yes, yes, _yes_ ," Kurt moans, fingers bruising hard as he holds onto Blaine's hips. He arches suddenly, crying out, and Blaine feels the deep throb as Kurt starts to come. He bites his lip, pushing back in one last time and stilling as he comes, too, Kurt all around him. Blaine keeps moving through their orgasms, sliding and slowing but unwilling to stop. They’re both panting and sweating where their bodies are plastered together. He moves again, one last time, so carefully; he’s over-sensitive, but he just doesn’t want this to end. 

Hulled and sated, Blaine relaxes against Kurt, still inside him. Their hearts pound against each other. Kurt's hands are reverent, touching softly, lighting over his body. Blaine kisses his neck, his ear, up to his cheek. 

"I love you so much." Blaine is babbling, but he can't stop. "I want to get an apartment with you, want to be with you, take you with me." 

Kurt's fingers still at the small of his back, and Blaine shivers, sliding out. 

"Take me where?" 

Blaine shakes his head, moving to roll off of him. Kurt splays his hands over the broadest part of his back. "Blaine." He's strong, stronger than he looks, and Blaine can't move away. "Blaine, take me where?" 

But he's trembling, weak, and he can't keep holding himself up the way he is. There are tears in his eyes, and he barely feels it when Kurt's fingers wipe them away. Blaine opens them when Kurt rolls them both onto their sides. 

"Tell me, Blaine." His voice is whisper-soft and sure. Blaine can't speak, can't force the words out of his mouth. He feels like he's on the precipice, perched on the edge of something huge and so frightening. His heart is in Kurt's hands, tender and desperate and completely frangible. Kurt scoots close. "I think I know, but, please, Blaine, I need to hear you say it. I need you to tell me," he begs. 

"I want to go to New York. I want you to come with me to New York." The words hang in the air, heavy and too loud. Kurt's eyes never waver. 

"Okay. Yes." 

~*~ 

"How did you know?" They're naked and curled together, faces sharing a pillow, when Blaine whispers the question. Kurt's fingers pause in the shallow hollow between his ribs and his hip. 

"I don't know, really." Kurt moves a little, knees bumping Blaine's. “I mean, at first I wasn’t even trying -- I just- I wanted to know what you wanted. You know… sexually, right then.” Kurt looks down, biting his lip before continuing. 

"But, to be honest, I think we both know that there’s been more. Not just because of what happened that day.” Kurt’s fingers squeeze Blaine’s when he references Blaine’s breakdown. “For weeks it's like you've been wanting to say something, but you kept stopping. It was making me crazy. So- I mean, I knew there was something, maybe several things, on your mind, but I didn’t want to press until you were ready. I wasn’t trying to push you for that tonight, I promise.” 

Blaine nods. “It’s okay, Kurt,” Blaine soothes, “I guess I was ready tonight.” His smile is tremulous. “But… did you know about New York? You don’t seem surprised.” 

“Well, once you said you wanted to take me with you, I guessed about New York. I think it’s been in the back of my head all along." 

"How?" Blaine is smiling so hard he can hear it in his voice. He's never felt closer to anyone, never felt so incredibly loved and relieved and safe as he does right now. The bed moves a little when Kurt shrugs. 

"The postcard. Dinner with my Dad, too. You brought up wanting to go study there. Those conversations with Wes -- lots of things, I think. When I came over the other night, the postcard wasn't on your bulletin board anymore. It just- it stuck out." Even in the dark, Blaine can tell Kurt is blushing. "So, you want to live together?" There's something shy and pleased in the timbres of Kurt's voice, something that clenches at Blaine's heart. It helps sometimes, that Kurt can be tentative and unsure, too. 

"I really, really do." 

Kurt hums happily, "Good. I do, too." 

Blaine exhales and pulls Kurt a little closer. "I thought- I thought maybe we could finish school here, then, if you wanted to, we could go." 

"To New York." Kurt's statement is awed and full of wonder. 

"To New York," Blaine confirms. They're quiet for a few minutes; Blaine starts to let it sink in. He can't believe it; everything about this night is incredible. There's so much to process, so many things to think about. 

"I can't believe you said yes, without even knowing. Just- I’d convinced myself that you’d never go. Because of your dad and your family," he remarks. 

"Blaine." Kurt sounds so sincere, and Blaine knows he really is. "I'd follow you anywhere." His fingers resume tracing Blaine's skin, always stopping just at his waist, as if they are hitting an invisible boundary. Blaine takes Kurt's hand, interrupting him. 

"Kurt." He takes a deep breath, feeling his heartbeat start to kick up. "I trust you." Slowly, he moves Kurt's hand until it's resting just at the base of his spine, then lower. He hums a little at Kurt's indrawn breath, shivering when Kurt's fingers move infinitesimally. 

"Is this what you meant, the other day?" Kurt is moving his hand so carefully, like Blaine is glass and he has the power to break him. Blaine makes a questioning noise, trying to regulate his breathing. He does trust Kurt, he does, but he's scared, too. 

"When I said I thought soon?" 

"Yeah." Kurt is sweeping his fingers from Blaine's hair down to the back of his thighs. 

"Yes. I mean- not just this, I think. I don't really know exactly what I meant. That I'm more ready. That I trust you and I wanted more, and that I was ready for more with you… like tonight.” Blaine takes a deep breath, “But maybe, physically, not- not _everything_. Maybe not even for a really long time-" Blaine blurts, stopping when Kurt hushes him. 

"Blaine, it's okay." Kurt's lips on his are gentle. "We have time. For everything." 

Blaine thinks about New York, all the things they have to say to each other. All the plans they have to make, the days and weeks and months that stretch ahead, time for them to be together. The big things and little things and in-between things they still have to explore and learn about one another. 

He smiles, relaxing. "We do."


End file.
